


Nobody But You

by WIWJ



Series: A Different Tune [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, What Should Have Been, alt season 8 ending, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WIWJ/pseuds/WIWJ
Summary: This is my very first AO3 post. I’m really nervous. The writing here is better than the site I usually write on. Anyway.   I would like to know what you think.I don’t know how to use the site yet. There will be mistakes.I traditionally don’t work with a beta so there will be mistakes.I read the books, I sort of shadow watched the show… it’s a long story…  I get confused. There will be mistakes.Here we go…Write a story about the leaked alternative ending they said, it will be fun they said.





	1. Let’s begin in the middle

_We shall start in the middle._   
  


* * *

”Is he being held prisoner?” She had asked in annoyance.

“Not by anyone but himself.” Tyrion had sighed. “He says he’ll only see you, My Lady.”

“I’m no ones Lady.” The woman answered, lifting a slim eyebrow at the Imp. “Is he well?”

The man studied her for a second before looking down.

“His injuries are no longer life threatening.” The man decided, opening the door and stepping aside.

“You’re not coming?”

“He will only see you.” He repeated in irritation gesturing for her to go in. She approached slowly.

He sat in a chair by the window.

“Kingslayer?” She called, feeling idiotic as she put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Come in, Little Wolf.” He gave her a brief look over her shoulder, snorting at the grip she had on her weapon. “Are you worried I’ll attack you?”

“I’m wondering why I’m here.”

“Me too.” He sighed.

“You sent for-.”

“No, not you me.” He snorted.

“I was wondering that myself.” She glanced at him. “It’s my understanding that you’re not being held against your will. You haven’t played the villains part in this. You have committed no cri-.”

“I stabbed my queen through the chest.” He hissed at her sharply. Arya let the heaviness of that moment sit in silence for a moment before she turned to look at him.

“From what I understand, she left you little choice.” Arya said softly.

“We always have a choice, Little Wolf. You know that. “ He sighed.

“A lot has happened.” Arya started again. “There is to be a-.”

“I know what there is to be. Despite my wishes, my brother sits outside my door and chatters on endlessly about the goings on of Kings Landing. He’s probably out there right now; **aren’t you Tyrion**?” He shouted at the door. Arya could hear the quiet sigh through the wood.

“Why am I here, Lannister?”

“Call me Queenslayer.” He said glibly. “I’d like to hear someone say it out loud.”

“She was never my Queen, Ser.” He blinked up at her. “Although, I am sorry that you got to her before I did. It would have done us both some good, it seems.” Jaime looked away. “Now.. why am I here?”

“At some point, someone will realize that I am a problem to be dealt with. My brother will undoubtedly try to hail me as some hero. Don’t allow it.” He swallowed. “I’m a coward. I could have stopped this long ago and I didn’t. Not for any reason other than I was a coward. We can say I did it for my house and my family but that’s a lie. We could say I did it for the love of my sister; but that’s not been the case for years. We could say that it was for my children; but they were never mine, and they’re all dead anyway. It was all because I wasn’t man enough to end it.”

“You want me to speak against you?”

“No.” He grinned. “Your sister will undoubtedly have that path covered as well. She’ll paint me as a super villain, an evil mastermind. That’s not what I am either.”

“You’re a coward?” She clarified.

“Yes.” He sighed.

“So you want me to tell them as much?”

“I want you to tell them not to bother. Not to bother with a trial or tribunal. Just tell them to choose. I’ll take the black, I’ll return to the Rock, I’ll let them have my head-.”

“Jaime!” Tyrion grunted from the other side of the door.

“ **They can put it on a pike and let the crows have my eyes**!” He yelled towards the door.

“I can relay your message.”

“Good.” He sighed. “I have another for you.” He swallowed hard and Arya watched his face shift in an attempt not to crumble, his voice shifting to a whisper so Tyrion wouldn’t hear. “One for you to give alone. Don’t do it in front of anyone else.”

“Your Lady Knight?” She guessed.

“I assume she’ll arrive with your sister?” Arya nodded, even though Jaime had already turned his eyes away so she couldn’t see the tears that pooled in them. She saw them anyway. “I want you to tell her-.” He stopped himself and coughed, his voice regaining it’s timber. “That I wanted very badly to be who she thought me to be.”

“And that you love her.” Arya whispered, Jaime winced, looking up at her in mild reproach. “She deserves to know.”

“She knows.” He croaked.

“I assure you Ser, she doesn’t.” Arya blinked. “Not anymore.”

“Then tell her that as well, if you think it will help her.” He whispered. “And then tell her to forget me.”

* * *

She heard on the road that he put a sword though Cersei’s rib cage and it made her push the caravan and spur the horses faster. When Arya met them where they’d camped along the road with his message she apologized to Sansa and got back on her horse, she made it two days earlier than expected. She could tell by the way Tyrion trotted out to meet her that things were as bad as she expected.

“Where?” She demanded as he was busy sputtering out her title, like this wasn’t an urgent matter at all. She pulled her breastplate off and handed pieces of her armor to Pod, like it's a baby’s bib and not something seasoned knights need two people to help remove.

“I put him in his old quarters.” She must have made a face, because he blanched and she hurried her steps. I didn’t know where else to-.” He jogged to keep up with her now. “I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never seen him like this!”

She has, she thought to herself. From what she deduced from Arya it was Harrenhal all over again. She knew what to do. Even if Tyrion and Arya and Jaime didn't.

“He won’t let you in.” Tyrion yelled, he’d given up trying to keep up with her.

“I don’t intend to ask his permission.” She yelled back as she made it to the door and swung it open. He must have heard her shouting because he’d already turned from the window when she barged in. He shot to his feet without thinking and his body tilted. Both arms reached for purchase, his left grabbing the chair as the right continues to instinctively flail, the ghost hand desperately reaching for the window ledge. And then she was in front of him, Her arm on his elbow, her other hand fluttering to his shoulder to steady him.

“I don’t-. You can’t-” He sputtered angrily. She wasn't listening, her hand had moved from his shoulder and smoothed across his chest and she lowered him back to the chair. Her eyes roamed over him in assessment. It had been just less than four weeks since she’d see him and he looked like he’s aged a year or two. He was dirty and angry and looked as hateful as he claimed to be. “You should go.” He hissed, his stumped arm flailing in the air again. The fingers of his left hand curled around her wrist as she traced the bruise on his face. “Please. You need to go.”

“No.” She sighed at him, sudden exhaustion hitting her full force. She didn’t realize there were tears on her face until he’d brushed them away.

“You have to go. I-.” His voice broke. “Please? You can’t be here.”

“Shhh..” She caught his hand in hers and wrapped it carefully in her own, she could see the swelling around his knuckles, and she knew the tight grip must be painful. “I’m not leaving.”

“Damn it woman, leave me be!” He yelled at her, his face breaking, crumbling into sobs. “Leave me-.“ His face dropped against her stomach and she could feel his tears though the tunic. “Leave..” She carded hands through his dirty hair, stroking at his temple with the other. “Brienne” He gasped against her, her name breathless on her lips his voice with what she knew was need. “Brienne.. Please.. don’t. “ His shoulders finally sagged into her body and he gave a mournful wail. “Please.. don’t.. I-.”

“I won’t.” She told him, her voice light. “I won’t.”

It was a promise. His right arm snaked around her waist, pressing her closer.

“Don’t.. leave.” He huffed into her body. “Please don’t…”

“I’m here.” She told him. There was no tenderness in her words, despite her steady strokes. She sniffed back the remainder of her tears. “I’m here.”

“I.. don’t… I didn’t want to..” He sniffed. “I didn’t want to leave.” His left hand squeezed her hip when he said this, as if he was afraid she’d try and run. “Brienne..”

“I know that.” Her voice broke and her tone was the one she used when she wanted him to know he was an idiot. He let out a bemused snort at it, his thumb slid over the crest of her pelvis. She sagged into him a little; weeks of travel and two days not sparing the horses to get to him had left her weak. She had keep him from drowning like she had in Harrenhal. “I know that.”


	2. All the bad things disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion and Sansa Banter.  
> The Starks reunite.  
> Jaime Broods.

“If it isn’t my, Lady Wife.” Tyrion Lannister smirked tiredly up at Sansa before she stepped down the three carriage steps and slipped her hand into his outstretched palm.

“Arya perhaps your boyfriend can fashion me some sort of carrier or harness for my Lord Husband?” Sansa pointed her face towards her sister with a vicious glint in her eye. “I seem to have a terrible time keeping track of him. He’s always wandering off.”

“I believe the last time we were side by side in this city, My Love, it was you that wandered off from me.” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You say wandered off. I say fled for my life while leaving you to face certain death.” She pursed her lips and tilted her head.

“Po-tayto, Po-tahto.” He shrugged.

“And yet here we are.” She smiled at him with that gleeful edge she had that he couldn’t help but feel a little pride in. He gave her a double take of a look.

“Here we are.” He told her drolly, his mouth twisting into a smile.

“You two are disgusting.” Arya huffed, grabbing one of the bags and tossing it to Pod. Tyrion kissed Sansa’s hand before letting it go and turning to her sister. “I’m guessing she made it here okay?”

“Yesterday morning.” Tyrion nodded.

“And?” If he didn’t know better he’d think that Arya Stark might have an investment in Jaime’s wellbeing. He squinted at her.

“She’s been with him ever since and I have felt free to explore my other duties.” He said simply.

“And those are the ones we should be discussing now.” Sansa pressed, looking at her sister before dropping her eyes to Tyrion. “Where is my brother?”

“This way.” He smiled softly, and the Stark girls followed behind him. “And Lord Bran?”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Sansa exhaled, Tyrion looked back over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes slightly and sighed. “I know. I know.” She too had thought, even briefly what had happened last time Brandon Stark had been the Stark left in Winterfell. “It’s not like the men in my family fair well in Kings Landing either you know. I’ve left Tormund there with him, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure he will, My Lady.” Tyrion chuckled.

“She’s really gone?” Sansa asked as Tyrion led them further into the Keep. She winced at the damage. It was far from the beautiful oasis she’d known as a child. Most of the greenery had been scorched away.

“She is.” He sighed. “She melted the throne and flew off. Back to Essos I think.”

“Why?” Sansa shook her head. “She’d won.”

“I think that when she realized that Jon and I would not — could not, stand with her, after what she’d done?” He sighed. “I like to think she realized that revenge was not her way after all.”

“It’s a pity she couldn’t have realized that before she burned half a city full of innocents.” Sansa sighed, her face pinched in irritation. Tyrion felt the weight of that in his chest and sighed, looking over his shoulder at Sansa. His former child bride’s face softened. “It’s not your fault.”

“I trusted her.” He raised an eyebrow, halting his steps and turning to face them.

“Everyone did.” She tilted her head at him and he loved her a little more for trying to dissuade him from his guilt.

“Not the two of you.” He countered, inclining his head at her sister. Sansa gave him a faint smile.

“We’ve both had slightly more than our fair share of corrupt saviors Tyrion. We’re more cautious.” She reminded him, glancing at Arya. “And if your Sweet Sister taught me nothing, it was to be sparing with your trusts.”

“I should have trusted your instincts, M’Lady.” His mouth twitched up sadly and he resumed walking.

They found Jon near the Godswood, which was mercifully still intact, gathered around a table with a group of men going over a map. He turned towards them when Sansa shouted his name.

Tyrion watched his face light up for the first time in weeks as he walked to hug his sister.

“I meant to meet you. I got distracted.” He mumbled into her hair.

“Tyrion was there with a whole army of servants and a smile.” She waved her hand at him. “How are you?”

“I’m sure you and Arya spent the last two days talking about that.” He rolled his eyes, she glanced at her sister ruefully before turning back to him. “I’m.. managing.” He swallowed. “I’ve already given Arya my apology. I owe you one as well.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“You did.” He growled lowly. “You knew.”

“It was a fear.” She told him sharply. “I’m sorry that it turned into a reality.”

“So am I.” He sighed. “I should have listened to your fears Sansa. Should have taken them seriously.” He huffed. “Yours and the Kingsla—.” Beside him Tyrion grunted softly. “Ser Jaime’s.”

“Arya said you and he formed quite the pair on the trip from Winterfell.” Sansa murmured. Tyrion realized it was hard for her to picture their brothers, heavy in their cups and conversations on the march south. Hell, he’d witnessed it and it had still been hard to see.

“He knew my fa-.” He halted, his face souring for a second. “He knew Rhaegar, served under him. He knew more about the Targaryens than anyone else I’d ever met.” He nodded. “He provided good counsel.”

“Provided?” She looked at him with something Tyrion might have thought was concern if he didn’t know her better. “Arya says he’s..” Her words fell away.

“We’ve been long on opposite sides, and I haven’t agreed with many of his choices but he’s made a lot of sacrifice for the Realm.” Jon swallowed. “The last few may have been more that he can bear.”

* * *

The Maester that Tyrion had assigned to him arrived just before Brienne left the Chamber to retrieve something for them to lunch on. She paused, worrying her lip between her teeth and looking at Jaime.

“You want me to stay?”

“I promise you; Ser, I was in way worse shape a week ago and I managed to suffer through Maester Hawley’s ministrations without your comfort then. I shall surely survive it now.” He grumbled, rubbing at his mouth until his eye caught sight of her face as the words fell over her pained expression. He exhaled slowly and let them shut. When his eyelids rose again the look was gone. She gave him a purposeful nod.

“I’ll go fetch us some plates then.” She sighed, her voice flat and even. It was the same measured tolerant tone she’d been using most often since her arrival. Sometimes it evoked strong emotions in him. Often rolling in opposite directions depending on his mood. Sometimes it made him want to pin her against the bed and kiss the tender parts of her neck until it went away. Until the warmth in her timber returned and she was calling him Jaime again in that throaty way that she did.

Sometimes it made him angry that she felt the need to be so damn gentle and he wanted to lash out at her until she snapped back.

Sometimes, like in this moment, it just exhausted him.

Hawley was going on about something and Jaime realized he should have had her stay, then maybe he’d be able to remember what the man wanted him to do.

“You should tell my-.” He stopped when he realized has no idea how he planned to finish that sentence. The word ‘my’ seemed to have slipped from his mouth without permission. “Ser Brienne will be able to keep it all straight.”

The man raised an eye.

“So your lady arrives and you suddenly decided to start taking care of yourself, hum?” The slight condescension wasn’t lost on Jaime, he sneered at it.

“She seems to want me alive.” Jaime sighed, for the life of him he couldn’t seem to figure out why.

“That’s not a bad thing at all Ser.” The man nodded absently. “I’ll have instructions sent to her.”

“Thank you.” He told the other man absently, still staring at the wall as he made his way to the door.

“How is he healing?” He heard Brienne’s soft lit in the hallway.

“Better than expected. I believe the care can be handled here without a Maester. He requested I have printed care instructions sent to you?”

“Yes. That will be fine.” She told him formally.

“You’ve improved his disposition My Lady.” The man told her gently. “He thanked me today.”

“If that is an improvement, Sir, I’m sorry it took me so long to arrive.” She said softly, always trying to save face for him. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re here now.” The Maester told her. “That’s what matters.”

Jaime tried to hold onto that for a second.

“He gets so angry.” Her voice was low.

“Some of that is the head wound. Some of it is from the emotional torment of what he witnessed.” He sighed softly. “And some is grief.”

“Perhaps.” Brienne’s voice was airy and he knew she was looking towards the door when he said it.

He listened as Brienne bid the Maester thanks and continued moving to the door.

“They had chicken.” Brienne said lightly, setting the plates on the table by the window before carefully lifting the pitcher off the tray. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen chicken on a plate?”He smiled at her soft voice, his eyes still fixed on the wall. “Come to the table.” He didn’t move. “Jaime?”

He lifted his head and tilted his gaze towards her.

“Do you need my help?” She asked him softly.

“I can stand.” He shot back.

“Okay.” She told him simply. “Then come to the table.”

He rose slowly and slid into the chair, watching her as she cut the chicken into pieces before setting the plate in front of him.

He caught her wrist as she pulled away, pulling her hand back to his face and pressing his lips to the back of it. His eyes slipping shut.

She squeezed his fingers, smoothing her thumb across his knuckles before whispering.

“Eat your chicken.”

* * *

“Jon would like to see you.” Tyrion told him when he stopped to join them for supper. “He wanted to ask your advice on where to focus the repair efforts near the Kings gate.”

“There are several others who could tell him I’m sure.” Jaime sighed, Brienne watched the way his eyes flitted about the room.

“He’s asked for you.” Tyrion continued unabashed.

“I don’t-.” She took her hand from the table and laid it against his leg, his words died on his tongue.

“I should check in with Sansa later tonight anyhow.” Brienne spoke slowly and evenly, pressing lightly on Jaime’ thigh as she turned towards his brother. “I’m assuming they’ll both be in the solar?”

Tyrion nodded looking between the two of them as Brienne raises an eyebrow to Jaime.

“Fine.” He huffed.

“Thank you.” Tyrion smiled, his eyes shifting back to Brienne. “If I haven’t told you yet I’m glad your back. You make him bearable.”

“She makes everything bearable.” Jaime sniped at him. “And she’s not back, she never left. She wasn’t the idiot who left.”

“My apologizes.” Tyrion tilted his head towards Brienne, Jaime stared at the table. She gave him a sad smile.

“We should get cleaned up then.” She added. “I’m assuming we’ll see you in the solar tonight as well?”

“You will.” The younger Lannister brother slid off his chair. “Thank you both for the lovely company.”

The door shut behind him and Brienne went about clearing the table.

“I’ll get it.” Jaime whispered softly, stacking the dishes together and moving them to the door.

Brienne wiped down the table, watching how he braced himself against the frame as he stood, pausing before he turned back to face her.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He whispered at her. She set the towel back beside the basin and let her eyes sweep over him. “Me leaving in the middle of the night against your wishes spewing every hateful deed I’d ever done at you like poison while you cried?”

She felt the lump in her throat when she swallowed, studying the way he still gripped the door frame. His face a mask of disgust and shame. She took a few steps towards him, her face softening when she saw the wild look in his eye.

“You come crashing through the door and let me fall apart and cling to you like a child as if nothing happened. As if your not even angry or hurt or-.” He shook his head. “And you cut my meat, and wash my face and comfort me at night when I wake up drenched in sweat and whimpering like a babe.” His voice was unsteady now and she reaches out and presses a gentle hand to his rib cage just above the large healing gash below it, and molds her other hand around his shoulder to steady him. “Are we even going to talk about it?”

“We will.” Her voice is calm, but there is a trace of fear and hurt in it that she can tell by the rapid movements of his chest that he’s caught. “When you’re stronger. We’ll go to the sparring yard, or play Tyrion’s dreadful game, or maybe we’ll fancy a trip to the bath house.” His mouth twitched up at her despite his heavy mood and she moved her hand from his shoulder to his cheek and he leaned against her palm. “We’ll talk about it until we’ve both said all we have to say.”

“So you’re mending me so you can feel honorable when you pound me into the dirt?” His voice was low and full of fake despondency. “How very knightly of you, Ser. To nurse your enemy back to health before you cut him down.”

She gave him a twisted smirk before leaning closer to him.

“You’re not my enemy, Jaime.” She breathed, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, wincing at the little squeak that slipped out of him. “I’m on your side.”

“Why?” He asked so casually, so much like himself that it made her laugh.

“You know why.” She breathed, her voice sweeter than the one she’d been so carefully using. “Let’s get ready to meet the Starks.”


	3. Maybe I’m Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is still broken.  
> Jon will be a good King.  
> Sansa can’t keep secrets.  
> Arya is Arya.

He let her do up fastens of his jerkin without comment, watching her fingers work against his chest. He played her words over and over in his mind.

_You know why._

There was no irritation, no accusation, only certainty that he knew the answer. And he did, even if he couldn’t find it in him to accept it right now. 

“You and Jon spoke on the way south?” She questioned softly, her hands smoothing out the wrinkles as she appraised him. He nodded slightly “About?”

“Rhaegar Targaryen mostly.” He told her with a quick suck of breath. 

“His father.” She shook her head. “How strange to think of. “ 

If he wasn’t so focused on the way she hadn’t removed her hands from his chest after all the smoothing, Jaime might have told her it doesn’t seem strange to him anymore. The more the man had spoken, the more his eyes had crinkled when he listened with such intent to learn, Jaime had seen the resemblance. 

“When they brought me to him.” He started quietly, hesitantly. “After they found me..” She opened her mouth to ask, but it closes just as quickly. He grinned at her anyway. “I was asleep, they saw the hand.” He rolled his eyes. “I was exhausted, and it had been so long since I’d taken the damn thing off myself, I couldn’t.” He snorted at his own ridiculousness. She gave his reddening cheeks a soft smile. “When they brought me to him… I thought he’d kill me.” He brought his hand up and circled his fingers around her wrist. “I don’t know why I thought that, but I was honestly surprised he didn’t. He just gave me a once over and said ‘are you going back to kill her or save her?’”

Her eyes looked away and Jaime felt the question between them just as he felt it between him and Jon. 

“I told him I’d been asking myself that question for quite awhile now and I still wasn’t sure. And he shrugged at me and told me I still had some time to figure it out.” He leaned his head towards her the smallest fraction but she responds like she’s been waiting for it. She probably had. Her forehead pressed against his and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t deserve her comfort, he knows it, but he’s weak and she gives it so freely. 

“He’ll be a good King.” She sighed. “Even if he doesn’t want it.”

“I think the best ones probably don’t.” He sniffed, lifting his chin and pressing his lips to her forehead before swinging his body away from hers. She stood there blinking for a second before he reaches out his elbow to her. “My Lady?”

* * *

  


“My thought was we just level the whole damn thing.” Jon pointed at Flea Bottom the map again. “The soil will be ripe, good for planting in a few years right?”

“They’ll still need a place to go.” Jaime reminded him. “They have no money, no skills.”

“There are jobs to be done. Many, many jobs. Clearing rubble, any man can do that. Digging graves, that’s another. We’ll supervise. Work together alongside them, find the cream of the crop make them leaders. Assign them apprenticeships.” He looked at Jaime excitedly. “What do you think?”

“I think..” He shook his head with a smile that made Brienne’s heart clench. “I think we can work from this.”

“He looks good.” Arya told her quietly. “Better.”

“It does him good to be out of his rooms.” She told her lightly, her lips twitching at the sight of Jaime’s wild gestures, his stumped hand swinging through the air. “I assume I have you two to thank for this?”

“Not at all.” Sansa raised an eyebrow. “Jon was insistent. He said he needed Jaime’s input. Tyrion tried to convince him he wasn’t himself but he’d hear none of it.” 

Brienne glanced towards Jaime’s brother who sat next to Davos, counting Lords she assumed, preparing for the King's Council. It was from what Sansa and Arya seemed to think a forgone conclusion that Jon would take the throne, or at least the melted blob that it had become. However Tyrion being Tyrion, was intent on making sure that every last possible house vote was accounted for. He didn’t want any surprises. 

“He’ll make a great Hand.” Arya told her. 

“Tyrion was born for-.”

“No.” Arya snickered. “Jaime. Jaime will make a great Hand.”

“Jaime…” Brienne looked at her like she was insane. “He-. Tyrion should-.”

“Tyrion has other obligations.” She smirked back at her before looking at her sister. 

“Arya..” Sansa mumbled. “Nothing has been set.”

“Hasn’t it?” Arya sighed, looking back at Jon and Jaime. “I’ll ask Gendry to fashion him something useful.” She said somewhat wistfully. “A hook, or maybe something with attachments?” She glanced at Brienne, her eyes lifting in glee at a sudden realization. “A one handed Hand.”

Sansa put her fingers over her mouth to keep the snort of laughter in. Arya didn’t even try, her dark timber falling over her lips like water down a rockscape. Brienne continued to stare at Jaime. 

* * *

“I think I made another mistake.” Sansa bit her lip and looks across the sitting room. 

“Like a ‘Whoops I told the biggest gossip in Westeros a big secret’ mistake?” Tyrion asked, his eyebrow raising. 

“I told the second biggest gossip, you told the first, thank you very much.” She mumbled back at him, still worrying her lip in and out of her mouth. “But yes.”

“Arya.. may have mentioned to Brienne..” She raised an eyebrow at Tyrion.

“Which part?” He whispered. 

“Well, one for sure and she hinted at the other.” She tossed aside the needlepoint she’d been working on and knotted her hands on her lap. “She said that Jaime would make a good hand and that you had other obligations.” 

“Well..” Tyrion winced. “That’s not directly telling her.. “

“Brienne is smart.” Sansa snorted. 

“Not about things like this.” Tyrion shook his head. “Besides it sounds like Arya made the mistake, not you.”

“Well.. I told Arya.” She grinned at him. Once again she found herself the middle man.

“Not about Jon wanting Jaime.” He dropped the map, taking a few slow steps towards her. 

“Not about that no.” He watched that look come to her eye. The look she’d had when she told him he was the best of them. The look she had when she’d told him she used to think he was the cleverest man in Westeros. “But about the other thing.”

“Yes.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “The other thing. Wouldn’t want that getting around.”

“Tyrion.” She warned him gently, reaching out her hand to him. He took it, slowly passing it back and forth between his own before kissing her fingers. 

“You can tell anyone you like about the other thing, Sansa. You know that.”

“You don’t mind?” She asked him softly. He wrinkled his face into a scowl. 

“Mind?” He chortled. “I was considering hiring some bannermen to spell it out in formation.”

She laughed and it made him smile. 

“Maybe we should just start with your brother and Brienne?” She decided. 

“As you wish, my Lady.” 


	4. Everyone’s Got So Much To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has good ideas.  
> Everybody but Jaime wants to explain.  
> Jaime flirts.

“You look like someone who could use a drink.” Tyrion’s voice cut through the silence of the sitting room. “And someone to listen, perhaps?”

Brienne’s mouth twitched into a rye smile. 

“The last time you offered me a drink I ended up in a fine mess.” She told him. 

“Somehow I think you’d have wound up there anyway.” He raised an eyebrow. “I just helped it along.”

“I'm not sure about that.” She sighed. “Your brother and I are quite clumsy when it comes to these matters.” 

“Then I welcome the work of my medaling hands.” He grinned, lifting the flagon towards her. She shook her head. “Do you mind if I-?”

“I don’t.” She grinned as he poured himself a generous portion. 

“Speaking of Hands.” He sighed looking at her frightened gaze. “I hear my go-.” He stopped swallowing back his words before continuing. “Arya.. may have let the cat out of the bag on that one?” 

“She may have.” Brienne blinked at him. “He’s not ready.”

“No. Not yet, but soon I think.” Tyrion nodded. “I’ve told Jon to tread lightly. To let you set the pace.” 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Brienne balked. 

“Yet you’re doing it just the same.” Tyrion sighed. “I couldn’t get him out of the room. He wouldn’t even light a damn candle. He’d just sit there in the dark hating himself.”

“He now sits there in the light hating us both.” Brienne japped. 

“Hating you is not something he’s capable of.” She looked away. “Don’t let him push you away.” Brienne lifted her face to Tyrion. “I know he’s currently to big of a mess for you to abandon, but as he gets better.. he’ll push harder.”

“Lord Tyrion-.” 

“He called for you.” The youngest Lannister continued. “Before I’d even gotten him off the throne room floor, he’d started whispering your name. Babbling about swords and fires and need.” Brienne bit her lip. “I thought he’d bleed out right there. Did he tell you about the stab wounds?”

“I’ve seen them.” She shook her head. 

“Euron Greyjoy. Little prick.” Tyrion spit the words out before taking another mouthful of wine. “Between the pirate practically gutting him, the undead Mountain smashing his head against the wall and Qyburn sending him over the edge of the stairs I was fairly sure he’d die before sun up. And that was before the fucking dragon almost cooked us alI. I made Jon move him away from Cersei. I didn’t want him to have to stare at her lifeless corps as he died.” 

Brienne was glad she wasn’t drinking, the bile in the back of her throat already threatened to choke her. She bit at her bottom lip to keep from telling Tyrion to stop. 

“I thought he’d fight me. That he’d want to stay with her, but he just kept mumbling on about you. Sapphires and Tarth and sweet cream. I realized he’d gone away inside. Like he used to when he was younger, and father or Cersei were being particularly cruel. He was with you, and that’s where he wanted to be. He stayed like that for days.”

A tear slid down her cheek but she couldn’t be bothered to brush it away. 

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I believe I offered you an ear and all I’ve done is run my mouth.”

“I’m pledged to Sansa Stark.” She said softly. “When she returns North…”

Tyrion looked at her. 

“We will not ask you to leave him.” Tyrion told her firmly. “You may have taken vows to Sansa but you have pledged yourself to my brother first and foremost. We understand that.”

“We?” She asked softly, a familiar winkle appearing between her eyes. 

“We were going to tell you this evening at supper.” He twirled his cup. “But it’s better you know first it will help prepare Jaime. Sansa and I are to be wed. Rewed? Wed again?”

“My Lord?” Brienne’s face was the picture of surprise. 

“Believe me, no one was more shocked than I, Ser.” 

“I didn’t think she’d ever marry again.” Brienne said softly. 

“Nor did she.” He sighed. “The North needs heirs.”

“She’s been deeply hurt.” The other woman whispered pointedly. 

“She’s told me.” He breathed, as if saying it too loudly would make it more real. Brienne nodded. “In time. All things in time.”

“You have great affection for each other.” Brienne told him. “I’ve seen it.”

“We went through a lot, if not together at least side by side.” He grinned. “I’m sure you can relate.”

“I can.” Brienne mumbled. 

“If it is your wish to stay here with my brother Sansa will release you with her blessing. If it is not then I will look forward to watching you pine for him from afar in Winterfell.” He took another drink before refilling his cup. 

“He needs me now.” She whispered. “When he’s fully healed, I’m not sure.” 

“He’s needed you always, Brienne. Even before you’d ever met.” Tyrion sighed. “Steadfast loyalty was always what Jaime needed and never received. Steadfast loyalty and love without condition.”

Brienne considered it for a second before swallowing hard. 

“Surely someone-.”

“I assume our mother.” Tyrion shrugged. “Someone had to give him a taste of it for him to know how sorely he missed it, but not our father. And for certain not our sister.” He sniffed. “We have an aunt that took a shine to him as a boy, but she’s not been around for years. Jaime has been desperately trying to make people love him for my entire life. Our father, our sister, his own children. He’s never quite been able to.”

“You haven’t loved him?”

“I’m not a prize.” He waved her away. 

“Sansa may disagree.” 

“Sansa, as you have pointed out may have reason to want a pint sized husband she can fling into next week if she so desires.” 

“Jaime loves you.”

“Yes. And he hates me.” Tyrion tilted his head. “His love for me put a wedge between him and our bastardly father and out sickeningly sweet sister. He paid dearly for loving me and he never quite forgave me for it. But seeing as it is just him and I now I suppose he’s stuck with me.” 

“I’m not a prize either.” Brienne reminded him. “The ugliest Maid in Westeros.”

“We need to get you a new slur my Lady, that one seems to no longer apply.” Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

“Kingslayer’s Whore seems to be the early favorite.” She couldn’t help but grin when she said it. 

“You like it!” He snorted. 

“It has a nice ring.” She smirked. “It’s somehow slightly more pleasurable to be mocked for having laid with a man than for not.”

“Especially a man as pretty as the Golden Lion?”

“He’s quite ragged these days.” She teased. “And more grey than gold.” 

“I think I like you.” He decided with a chuckle.

“Likewise Lord Tyrion.” She smiled. “And thank you.”

“For?”

“Apparently I needed to listen to you speak more than I needed your ear.” She stood slowly, tapping her knuckles on the table. “I’ll see you at supper?”

“You will.”

* * *

  
  


Jaime looked at the plans that Jon had unrolled on the table with interest. 

“Well?” Jon looked at him expectantly. 

“You’re saying make it open to the public?” Jaime squinted. The old knight’s body stiffened and he could feel the first tenderals of ache make its way up his neck. He ignored it, looking at the young man that would be king. 

  
  


“To anyone who wanted yes.” He nodded. “A place not just to train Maesters and Septa’s, but anyone who wanted to teach or learn.” 

“This isn’t a Sept.” 

“No. No, I have plans for that too, but that would be separate; a religious place. This would be a common place, not for the old gods or the new, but for the people.” He swallowed. “It’s like I told you before, we’ll look for them in the city while we rebuild, the ones who stand out, who have a thirst for knowledge, like I noticed in Sam Tarly at the wall. Like Davos noticed in Gendry. We’ll find them, the future leaders. Not Lords or Knoblemen, but common folk. They’re out there, in the rubble right now.”

Jaime looked at him with a nod, he thought about the men in Winterfell that he’d fought beside and then later rebuilt beside. The commoner’s that Jon spoke of, with unmined talent. Possibility. Promise. They would pull this city out of the ashes. If there were enough of them left. 

“People would flock here.” Jaime mused. “From other areas. Looking for opportunity.” Jon grinned. “We’d be the new Dorne.” He teased. 

“Sam is already sent someone he trusts to the Reach to interview Septon’s and Septa’s that took refuge at the Starry Sept. We only want the very best.” Jaime snorted for a second thinking about Briene’s cruel Septa and how long it had taken him to dispel all the myths about sex and sexuality she’d instilled in her. 

“The very best.” Jaime agreed. 

“I was thinking about what you said.” Jon’s voice lowered for a moment and it caught Jaime’s attention immediately. “About accountability.” 

“Yes?” Jaime pressed him. 

“I..” The young man swallowed hard. “I have made miscalculations before. Trusted to blindly, saw good in people when it didn’t exist.” 

“We’ve all made miscalculations Lord Snow.” Jaime reminded him. 

“When a monarch miscalculates, it can be disastrous.” He whispered. “Your suggestion of surrounding oneself with diversity of opinions and backgrounds… will you? Could you help me compile a list? I have some names but you.. know these people. You’ve interacted and observed them your whole life.” 

“Yes of course.” Jaime nodded, feeling the familiar spike of pain move along his skull when he did. He grit his teeth and looked back at the plans for the learning facility, his hand pressing hard against the table. 

“We should break.” Jon said evenly, his voice distracted enough that Jaime knew his discomfort had not gone unnoticed. “I have to see to my sisters and I’m sure Ser Brienne is on her way here to retrieve you.” Jaime looked up to see the boys mouth twitch. “It’s been longer than we anticipated.”

“Yes I’m sure my nursemaid is pacing the floor.” He grinned. 

“I would hate to be on the receiving end of her displeasure.” Jon actually smirked at that thought. “She frightens me a little.”

“She should.” Jaime teased, looking up just in time to see the woman in question stride into the room. 

“A moment of your time Ser Jaime?” She said sharply, before remembering herself. “If that is alright by you Lord Snow?”

“It’s all right by me.” Jon sighed pleasantly. Nodding to Jaime as he moved across the hall to exit through the doorway where she currently stood. “If it’s alright by you I will return your ward to you for now, My Lady. I have to attend to my sisters or they will soon be at your heels to drag me away as well.” 

“It’s alright by me.” Jaime listened to her warm voice, letting it sooth him. 

“He needs rest.” He heard Jon whisper, his mouth twitching into an embarrassed grin. 

“I’m sure he does.” Brienne said evenly, watching him go before crossing the room to where Jaime still leaned against the table. She brought her hand up to his neck and pressed her thumb and forefinger there and he let his eyes sink shut. “Headache?”

“Mmm.” His body pitched towards her slightly and she shore his side up with her torso. 

“You know, I give you time limits for a reason.” She scolded lightly. 

“Because you’re smarter than I am.” He breathed, focusing on the steady movement of her fingers. 

“You need to lie down.”

“Don’t stop.” He groaned, his head lulling to her shoulder. 

“I’ll continue when we get you back to your chambers.” She promised sternly. 

“Always trying to get me into bed.” He breathed. “You insatiable woman.” 

“You couldn’t satiate much right now I’m afraid.” She murmured. His eyebrows rose instantly. It was as close to talking about sex as they’d gotten since Winterfell. 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked her, his lips pulling almost painfully into a tight smile. 

“No.” She laughed lightly before leaning in and pressing her lips to his temple. “It is not. You need to rest.”

He sighed dramatically against her as she pulled her hand away and wrapped it around his waist. He let her lead him back to the White Sword Tower with her other hand clamped firmly on his arm. 

“I had a talk with your brother today.” She hummed. 

“‘Bout what?” He asked, growing more tired with each step. 

“He has news for us at dinner. I think you’ll be surprised.”

“He told you already?” He asked as she pressed him forward. 

“Yes, but I’m going to let him do the honors.” She continued guiding him though the lower courtyard, he was leaning heavily against her now. “You overdid it.” 

“Hummm.” He placed his hand over hers, rubbing her fingers lightly. “You really should have come for me sooner.” He teased. 

“I will not make that mistake again Ser.” She sighed. “Although I should, maybe me carrying you through the Keep would shame you to learn your limits.”

“Probably not.” He sniffed. “Who put this bloody tower so far away?”

“Someone who thought it’s occupants would be sturdy enough to make it there.” She chidded. 

“You wound me.”

“No. I’m afraid that I was not among the cast of characters that did that.” She swallowed, tightening her grip on him. 

“You have been talking to Tyrion.” He said grimly. 

“I have.” She gave him a sidelong glance. He looked at her with a soft hurt. 

“We’ll have to talk it out eventually.” He reminded her. 

“Currently you are in no condition for either a drink, a spar or a bath.” She whispered. “You need a nap and some of that tea that Samwell Tarly brought with him from Winterfell.”

“Will you stay?” She barely heard him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaime.” She sighed softly, feeling his fingers slip in between her own. 

* * *

“He thought you’d be angry.” 

“Your Grace?” Brienne blinked up at the open doorway. 

“Not yet.” Jon shrugged sheepishly. “It’s still just Jon.”

“Sorry, of course how presumptuous of me.” She set the book on the table beside her and rubbed her eyes. He shrugged. 

“I-. I had some more outlines for Ser Jaime to look at. Podrick said it would be okay to leave them with you.” She looked at him, he wasn’t exactly a boy any longer, but he clearly wasn’t a seasoned political mind. Barely a Lord and now suddenly a king.

“Of course.” She gestured towards the table, her eyes never leaving him. 

“Do forgive me.” Jon huffed slightly. “But we spoke a lot on our journey south, and I for whatever reason I doubt he’s told you half the things we spoke of, and it’s not my place.” He shook his head. “But I don’t know if he’s told you and I think you might find it helpful to know in the coming weeks.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” She told him carefully, even if it wasn’t entirely truthful. 

“He thought you’d be angry. That you’d scorn him for leaving. That you’d no longer care about what became of him.” The young man gestured to the chair and she gave him a quick nod. How do you refuse the future King even if you’re not sure you can stand what he has to say? “I figured he was correct, despite Lord Tyrion telling him repeatedly he was an idiot. You.. have quite the formidable exterior.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I am glad you’re on our side Lady Brienne, sorry.. Ser..”

“Either is fine Your-. My Lord.” She gave him a rye grin. 

“He tried to reason with her, for a moment.” Jon looked over her shoulder. “His sister. She ranted and belittled him, it became very obvious to me why he expected you couldn't forgive him. Seems she found every sore spot and made sure to poke her finger in it. “ Snow shook his head. “He’s bleeding everywhere, barely on his feet after the Mountain had just hurled him against the wall like a sparring dummy, and he’s begging her to surrender and she’s belittling him. She’s surrounded by the enemy, her protectors killed off one by one, a literal dragon at her doorstep and she’s telling him what a disappointment he is.” 

Brienne winced. 

“And he just took it. He took it and kept trying to persuade her.” Jon shook his head. “She’s telling him she’ll allow him back at her side. They’ll rule together, she’s telling him how she’ll kill their brother, how she’ll kill you.. how she’ll kill everyone.. burn them all.. and the next thing I know he’s shoved a sword through her chest. Her body arched up and she just sunk into him and they both just dropped to the ground.” 

The heir to the throne watched as the lady knight blinked the tears back from her eyelids. 

“He whispers to Tyrion ‘Did I kill her? Is she dead?’ And then Daenerys and Drogon nearly torched us all and he’s still mumbling. ‘Is she dead? She has to die.’ And Tryion’s begging me to move him away. You’re not supposed to move someone so badly injured...but Tyrion was insistent.. So I half dragged him.. a road of blood paving itself behind us.“ He shook away the memory. “He was talking to you then. Like you were there, with this soft smile. I thought he was hallucinating. Tyrion said he’d ‘gone away inside’. That other knight, the disgustingly smarmy one.. Ser Bronn… he says ‘In the arms of the woman he loves.’” 

“Why are you telling me this?” She asks him softly. 

“Because a time is coming where you’re going to be asked to make sacrifices for the Realm, and you deserve to know what you’re choosing. He deserves to know the origins of your choice.” Jon tells her cryptically. “He’s a good man.” Brienne’s chest heaves slightly at the familiar words and the man rises to leave. “Even if he doesn’t know it.” 

“Thank you.. “ She calls as he moves out the door, before adding quietly. “Your Grace.” 

* * *

“Maybe Tyrion and Sansa should meet us here.” Brienne said softly from the doorway and Jaime grunts in protest pushing off the table to lurch to his feet.

“I can make it.” He sighed. 

“You don’t have to.” She told him. “You stubborn ass.”

“Look who’s talking.” He quipped. “If this where you, you’d probably be fighting on your armor right now and shooing me away if I tried to help you.” He turned towards her and gestured to his undone fastens.

“Shows what you know. I’m a big baby when I’m sick. I’d make you spoon feed me pudding and rub my feet.” She teased. 

“I think I’d quite like that.” He grinned, his hand moving to her hip. 

“Not so weak all the sudden now.” She snorted. “You forget yourself, Ser.”

“You’re the one who brought it up this morning.” He told her with Lannister false confidence she knew so well. “Who are you to blame me if I can’t stop thinking of it.”

“You brought it up this morning.” She reminded him. “I simply suggested that you weren’t up for the task.”

“I’m strong enough.” He teased her, his voice low. 

“If you let go of me right now you’d stumble.” She countered, finishing her work on his clasps. 

“Like a swoon.” He sighed dramatically. “You make me swoon.” She tried and lost the fight against the smile that fell across her face. “My brave and gallant knight.” 

“Piss off.” She giggled. 

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.” He lilted, turning his head carefully on its side.

“I’m sure you have.” She japed. “Many times. From many people.”

“I like it best from you.” He almost purred, her face flushed and he smirked. “I’m getting to you!” He quipped in delight. “You do miss me, don’t you?”

“I’m rarely more than four feet from you Ser, how am I supposed to miss you?” She raised an eyebrow, pulling back just a little to hold his gaze as he leaned towards her. 

“I miss you.” He leered. 

“Serves you right.” She chastised him half heartedly, he pulled back a little, his thumb rubbing at her hip as he considered her words. 

“I suppose so.” He sighed, moving his hand up to her arm. She gave him a soft smile before pressing her lips between his eyes. 

“How’s your head?” She whispered, laying her brow against his cheek. 

“Better. The tea helped, and the rest.” He folded his hand over one of hers, and tucked the stumped arm under her elbow. 

“You need to rest your eyes.” She reminded him. “You can’t stare at Jon’s chart and maps and drawings for too long. Try looking at the floor, or at a fixed spot on the wall for a few minutes until your forehead relaxes. No squinting.”

“No squinting.” He sighed heavily and leaned into her. The rush he’d felt to get to Tyrion’s news had faded and he suddenly wanted nothing more that pull her back to the bed, curl onto her shoulder and go back to sleep.

“No drinking. No bedding.. So many rules.” She cooed at him. 

“I say.” He mumbled.

“It’s not forever.” She sighed. “You’ll get stronger.”

“And the other part?” She felt him hold his breath against her body. 

“Time Jaime. We need time.” She brought her hands up and framed his face, her thumbs brushing against his jaw. “And I shouldn’t tell you this, because you don’t deserve it, but I miss you too.” 

He let out the breath, long and slow against her neck and she fought not to shiver. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to have them come here?”

“I can make it to the Maiden Vault.” He decided. “It’s not that far.” 

“You’ll tell me? If your getting overtired?” 

“You’ll know before I do. You always do.” He pecked his lips against her cheek and stood up straight. Testing the strength of his legs. 

“Jaime.”

“Do we need a code word?” He raised an eyebrow as he pushed her back gently and moved around her. “Should we say we have to return to our chamber because we can no longer keep our hands to ourselves? To hide my shame of course.” 

“If you’d like My Lord.” She sighed. 

“My Lord? You haven't called me that in.. by the Seven I can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

“Maybe I’ll start.” She sighed, grabbing a light cloak and draping it over her arm. It was very clearly for him, for later when the sun set and there was a chill. He both loved her and hated her for it. 

“Very well, My Lady.” He sniffed, reaching out his arm. “Lead the way.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Deal With The Bad Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion shows his hand.  
> Jaime looks back.  
> Brienne’s had enough.  
> Jaime wakes up.

“Married?” Jaime looked from Sansa to Tyrion before looking back at Brienne who smiled politely.

“It unites the North. Davos says we’ll be the first of many marriages that unite the realm. It’s an archaic tradition but it’s an effective one.” The youngest Lannister leaned forward and stared pointedly at his brother. “Just doing my part.” 

“Yes it’s a great burden for him, but he’s shouldering it bravely.” Sansa smirked. 

Jaime looked at Brienne again, she was staring at the table, deep in thought.

“We haven’t decided if we’re going to have another wedding, or if once Jon is coronated we'll just have him make it so.” Tyrion shrugged. “We thought about going back to Winterfell and having something there, but..” He stopped and looked at his betrothed. 

“Our wedding here was probably my best so far.” She smiled wryly despite the small look of discomfort that framed her face. 

“If slightly stunned and terrified is the way you’d like us to spend our wedding day we can reenact it.” Tyrion laughed. 

“It wasn’t as exciting as Joffrey’s. Now that was a wedding.” Sansa quipped, taking a sip of her wine. Tyrion laughed a little before his eyes fell on his brothers face. Jaime’s smile froze in place, slowly becoming a grimace. “I’m sorry Ser Jaime I forget myself.” Sansa whispered, looking down quickly. 

“It’s alright.” He sighed, his face still tight in his fake Lannister smile. “He was awful to you, both of you.”

“He was still your son.” She told him boldly. “And My Lord Husband’s nephew. I shouldn’t-.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t very good for anything the two of you may have needed then. I was still..” He swallowed hard. “Figuring things out.” He waved his stump hand in the air for a second before setting it on the table. Brienne laid her hand on top of it instinctively. Her eyes still focused on her plate. “I had intended to..” He looked at Sansa. “Help you, to keep my vow to your mother, but my attention soon shifted.” He glanced at Brienne. “My sister had figured out something that I hadn’t yet, but I sensed her malice. I had to.. switch my course.” He swallowed hard. “I knew being married to Tyrion would provide you with some protections, but-.”

“You had to get Brienne out of there.” Tyrion sighed, watching as the knight’s eyes jumped from her food to Jaime’s face, then to Tyrion. “Our sweet sister didn’t like sharing. She threatened her?”

“She made it clear, in her way.” Jaime looked down at his lap with a quick nod. “I should have done something then.” He sighed. ”Once I got Brienne out of the city. I should have stood up for you.” 

“You couldn’t Jaime.” Tyrion huffed. “You couldn’t. You freed me. That was all you could do.”

“It was the very least I could do Tyrion. I did a lot of that back then. The very least.” He swallowed hard, his hand coming to rest over Brienne’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. I’m truly happy for you. Both of you. I just tired.” He smiled at his brother. 

“We should-.” Brienne began but Jaime shook his head as he rose to his feet, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“Stay.” He whispered. “Enjoy someone’s company besides my own.”

“Jaime..”

“I’ll be alright. If I can’t make it back I’ll find some eager squire to assist me.” He grinned at her, tracing his finger across her jaw. “But I will take your cloak.” 

She rose with him, draping it over his shoulders, his eyes crinkled around the edges and she couldn’t help but smile back.

Jaime pulled his hand away from hers, continuing to shoo away his brother’s pleas to stay as he made his way out into the night. 

He stared out at the silent yard, the act of rebuilding paused for the cool night. He thought about every incarnation of the Red Keep he’d known. As a boy playing in the lower courtyard with his siblings as his father worked. As a young man in Aerys’ Kingsguard asked to make an impossible choice. As Cersei’s lover, as a secret father, forced to be shadow his children’s lives. As a Queenslayer.

He’d been contemplating what he became the moment he shoved the sword into his sister. Was it more kinslaying than Queenslaying? A bizare form of suicide? They’d supposedly been one, hadn’t they? Hadn’t that been what Cersei had said? He didn’t feel like he’d ended himself. He felt like he’d freed himself, and that hurt more than any of the other parts. He’d killed his sister, his lover, the mother of his dead children, and all he could manage to feel was free. He hated himself for it. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there before he hears rapid footsteps on the cobblestone walkway, but he smiles because he knows it’s her. His brave protector, she deserved so much more than him. _So much more._ He watched her in the torch light, her brow furrowed, her steps determined. He tried to think of something clever to say to get her attention but he’s tired. She startled when she saw him, her hand dropping to Oathkeeper, her body straightening out like a rod. 

“Hi.” He whispered, concern seeped into her face. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not.” She whispered, he gave her a sad smile. 

“You’re right. I’m not.” He opened the cloak and stretched out his arm. “Come sit.” She settles beside him and he pulled her tight to his side with his stunted arm, turning his face towards her and dropping forehead against her temple. “Better.”

“Sansa was out of line.” Brienne told him.

“Was she?” He sighed. 

“He was your-.”

“Was he?” Jaime pulled back and looked at her. “In any real way, was he?” She blinked. “Would you want to claim him?” Her lips twitched. 

“You don’t know who he could have been, if you’d been allowed to raise him.”  
  


“All the things I could have done differently swirling around in my head.” He winced swallowing hard. “No wonder the damn thing throbs all the time.”

“You have another chance. You have a chance to make the right choices.” Something was pleading in her face and it made him ache. 

“I don’t deserve it.” He whispered. “I don’t.”

“Even if that was true, it’s too late now. You’ve gotten it.” 

“It feels heavy.” He whispered. “Like too much to hold.” 

His mind conjured up an image of the discarded gold hand. 

“I’m here.” She reminded him, leaning her shoulder against his. “I’m here, Jaime. I’ll help you until you get your strength back.”

“Then what?” He sighed, tipping his head back against her, his mouth pressed against her shoulder. She was quiet for so long he started to get nervous, slowly pulling his head back up to face her with a worried gulp. “I hurt you.”

“You did.” She told him softly. “But I wasn’t mortally wounded you know.”

He leaned back against her with a sigh, until she nudged him back up as she rose, reaching her hands out to pull him up. 

“Can we go in now?” She whispered, he nodded his head and let her lead him to bed.

* * *

Brienne dropped Jaime off with Jon and made her way back down to the Maiden Vault, finding Tyrion in nearly the same spot she’d left him in the night before.

“Ser-.”

“You meant us didn’t you?” She interrupted before he has a chance to start running his mouth. “Others asked to wed for the good of the realm. You meant Jaime and I. Davos suggested we wed, for the good of the Realm?”

“You are of the East. Jaime is of the West. You are beloved in the North and most of the South holds him in.. esteem.. If nothing else.”

“Fear.” Brienne snipped. “They fear him.” 

“Yes.” Tyrion swallowed.

“If he doesn’t want to be Hand of the King?” She said stiffly.

“He will.” His wide eyes suddenly reminded her of Jaime’s when she’s caught him off guard. 

_Good_ , she thought. _Consider what you’re asking of him._

“I’m not so sure.”

“He can do good here. He _needs_ to do good.” Tyrion swallowed. 

“Maybe it’s time for everyone else to stop telling him what he needs.” Her voice is firm. Tyrion startled a little, before looking down at the table. “He’s never lived for himself. Never made his own decisions. Never figured out what it means to be Jaime. Just Jaime.” 

“He loves you.” 

“And I love him.” She sniffed back the wisp of emotion in her voice. “And it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough to break Cersei’s spell was it?”

  
  


“Of course it was.” Tyrion drew each word out like he was trying to convince her she was ridiculous. “You still think he’d choose her over you? He stabbed her through the chest! For the sake of the Seven Ser, you can’t be that self delusional can you?”

“I beg your pardon?!” She all but shrieked. 

“You think he wouldn't jump at the chance to marry you? It’s what he needs now more than breath. And the added bonus of feeling as if you had no choice in the matter will play right into his self loathing disposition he’s had of late. He’ll get to feel all noble and self righteous. He’ll love it.”

“Don’t talk about him as if you know him.” She said suddenly, the fight draining slowly out of her. “He’s not like Cersei, mean spirited and hateful. He’s not.” She swallowed hard, but it does nothing to stop the tremor in her voice or the tears in her eyes. “He’s not like your father, obsessed with power and status and appearances to cover up for his own inadequacy.” She spat the words at him. “And he’s not like you, putting yourself down before anyone else can, while quietly thinking your better than everyone else.” 

“Do tell me who he is then Ser, I’ve only known him my entire life.” Tyrion quipped.

“He’s a man who would charge back towards danger to save the life of a woman who cost him his hand. He’s someone who would jump unarmed into a bear pit to save the ugliest maid in Westeros.” She watched his eyes widen again. _That’s right._ She thought to herself. _You never knew that, did you? He never told you that._ “The man who would suffer through dishonor rather than speak of the trauma that he endured, because he knew no one else would ever believe him and he did it all for a family that gave him nothing but heartbreak and disapproval.”

Tyrion looked down at the table before looking up at him again. 

“And still he feels guilty. Guilty that he couldn't protect you. That he couldn’t please Tywin Lannister that he couldn’t be the knight he thought he’d be. That he couldn’t protect Cersei from her fate, from herself. That he couldn’t save his children. That he couldn’t save Kings Landing.That he couldn’t stay with me. That he couldn't stay with Cersei…” She batted the tear off her face angrily. “He’ll feel guilty to leave Jon. Guilty to marry me. Guilty not to marry me…” 

“He loves you.” Tyrion implored, reaching out and grasping her arm. “He has since the beginning.”

“I know that!” She shouted, yanking her hand back. “It’s himself he can’t stand.”

She turned back towards the door. Ignoring Tyrion’s calls, her heels clipping against the floor. 

* * *

Jaime looked towards the doorway.

“Tyrion! You should come explain to young Jon the importance of brothels. He feels them unnecessary.” He glanced back at the man who will be King with a pointed look, knowing Tyrion will have the words to explain it to him. “He needs an expert in this matter and although some may find it odd I’ve never needed to take use of a brothel.”

“I need to speak with you.” His brother said softly. “Alone.” Jon ducked his head, taking a few quick steps backward towards the table.

“If this is about last night-.” He shook his head at his younger sibling.

“No. It’s about Brienne.” Tyrion’s face paled.

“What’s happened?” Jaime forced the words from his chest. “She just left me. Is she alright?”

“I may have.. miscalculated…” 

“I’m not following.” He shook his head.

“Jaime.. I’m trying to build a Kingdom from the rubble..” For a moment Jaime thought she’d left, gone back to Winterfell or to Tarth. He had an unbelievable urge to run after her.

“What did you do?” Without her, he’d crumble. He knew it like he knew swordplay, like he knew the Red Keep, like he knew the twists and turns of Casterly Rock. 

“I forgot people are not pieces of a chess game.” Tyrion shook his head. “If you have things you’ve been waiting to tell her. I wouldn’t wait any longer.” 

……..

Samwell Tarly was deep in conversation with Maester Hawly when Jaime Lannister barged in and started taking off his shirt.

“Ser Jaime?” Hawly snorted in surprise. 

“I need to know if they’ve healed enough.” He demanded. 

“Healed enough for what exactly?” The older Maester asked him, examining the long scabbed over gash. 

“Bathing, drinking and bedding.” The injured man growled, wincing as the Maester prodded at his side. 

“All at once?” He asked with a blink, the Kingslayer sneered at him before yanking his shirt back over his head. 

“Perhaps.” He hissed.

“I don’t think it will hurt anything.” Hawly shook his head. 

“Thank you.” He grumbled back before making his way out the door. 

“Strange fellow.” The older man whispered to Sam as he made his way back to the table. 

* * *

He found Brienne pacing in the corridor in front of their chambers, his hand coming up and grasping her upper arm with a possessive hold. 

“I thought you were with Jon?” Her expression was blank, but it didn’t hide her red rimmed eyes. 

“Come with me.” He said firmly. 

“Where are we going?” She took him in, noticing the two goblets and a bottle of Dornish Red tucked under his right arm. 

“To take a bath.”

  
  
  



	6. You just hold me near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne drink and bathe.  
> Jaime has an answer for the question Jon hasn’t asked yet.

It had taken more convincing then Jaime would have hoped to get her in the bath house. 

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“All the better, no one will be here.” He turned his shoulder to her and gestured to the wine. “Take this before I drop it.”

“Jaime, I’m not going to drink the middle of the day.” She pulled it from him. 

“This was your idea woman.” He was in a snit now. 

“What happened with Jon?” She asked as he yanked her inside the tub room and closed the door behind them. He dropped the bolt into place and pulled her to the table taking the cups and bottle back and setting them on it. “He asked you?”

“Asked me what?” He asked her absently, reaching up to undo the ties of her tunic. 

“What are you doing?”

“Are we really going to replay the whole thing, Love?” 

Her breath caught in her throat for a second and it dawned on him he hadn’t used that term of endearment since Winterfell. 

“What brought this on?” She asked him slowly, before her hands came up and untied the lace of his shirt. 

“You said, when I was stronger we’d do this. I’m stronger. We’re doing this.” He pulled back from her and she helped him draw the shirt over his head before he turned toward the wine. 

“I’m not drinking.” She told him softly. 

“I’ll water it down for you.” He grunted moving over to her discarded bag and fishing out the skin of water she dutifully kept in it. 

“Jaime.” She complained and he dropped his head back to the ceiling. 

“This was your idea.” He groaned, pouring her a cup of half water half wine. He heard the water move then, and when he turns she’s already entered the tub with a sigh, he wondered if it’s because of the warmth of the water or because she’s surrendered. When she turned and gave him a slow knowing smile he decided it was the latter. “Thank you.” He set her watered wine beside her on the edge and poured himself a hefty cup. Before setting it down too and working his way out of his breeches. She’s studying him with a worried eye. “I asked Hawly he says it won’t kill me.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She murmured, her eyes skimming up the wounds on his torso.

“I was much weaker the first time we did this.” He continued. 

“I didn’t say anything!” She told him, her voice a little firmer. 

“You’re starring.” He raised an eyebrow and started descending the steps. 

“Maybe I like looking at you.” She snipped. 

“It wasn’t that kind of stare.” He snorted, and she gave him that. He settled in the water, trying not to wince at the way the raw patches of new skin on his body stung with the heat. She’d have him back out of the water before he could even get a word out if he did that. Instead he took a sip of his wine. She shook her head at him, her right brow rising and a slow grin stretching across her face. “Lady’s first.” 

He watched her think for a moment before shaking her head. 

“You started this.”

He almost protested again that this had been her idea, but Tyrion’s words were still fresh in his head. 

“You spoke with Tyrion this morning.” He told her quickly. 

“He told you that.” She balked, taking the smallest sip. 

“I surmised.” He repeated cheekily, but the grin fell away when he remembered his brothers pale face. “He upset you.” 

She took another sip. 

“He was pestering you about what comes next.” She swallowed and looked at the wine. “He-.”

“Do really want to talk about your brother? Is that why you’ve brought us here?” She snapped. She didn't want to talk about Tyrion. “That’s what we’ve spent the last two weeks side stepping?”

“Fine.” He hissed. “You’re still angry at me for leaving Winterfell.”

“Drink.” She told him stiffly, watching his face flicker a little before he pressed the cup to his lips. “You're still angry at yourself for leaving Winterfell.” She countered and he drank. “You thought if you couldn’t save her at least she wouldn’t die alone.” He drank. “You felt you were at least partly responsible for all she’d done.”

“I was.” He whispered into the cup. 

“You were.” She admitted softly, he winced anyway. He watched her eyes drop to the water, bracing himself for the next question. “You wouldn't have killed her if you thought you’d live.” 

“Drink.” He whispered at her, watching her head jerk up to look at him. “She wasn’t pregnant. Did I tell you that? I don’t know if she’d ever been..” He looked over her shoulder. “She ordered the Mountain to kill me.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but it was everything. “He would have too, if the damn Hound hadn’t show up.” He took a breath and looked back at her. “You see me differently now, after what I said when I left.” 

“Drink.” Her face softened and he held her gaze for a second biting at his lips before he sipped. “I knew all those things Jaime. I know who you are.” 

He took a shaky breath, before nodding. 

“You think I’m too good for you.” She murmured. 

“Drink." He whispered back. "I know you’re too good for me.”

“You don’t think I should be the one who gets to choose that?” She snapped. He looked at her and grinned. 

“It’s my turn.” He snorted. “You wouldn’t have come to me if I hadn’t been injured.”

“Jaime.” She groaned. “Drink. You want me to hate you. Why do you want me to hate you?!” 

“Drink.” He whispered, looking into the water, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m terrified of the day you realize you should hate me.” 

“Jaime.” The broken edge in her voice made him look up. He felt the water move and she was suddenly gripping his face. “I love you.”

“They aren’t opposites.” He huffed. “Believe me, I know.”

“I’m not going to hate you.” 

“I left you sobbing-.”

“I thought you were going to die. I thought you’d rather die with her then live with me.” Her hand swung back down into the water with a slap. “You were choosing death with her over life with me!”

“Drink.” His voice was low as he reached his cup out to her. She winced away. 

“I hate this stupid game.”

“It’s working.” He laughed, only half bitterly. “I was trying to-. I wanted to-.” He took a deep breath before rushing out the words. “I wanted to stay. I needed to stop her. I needed to-. Why was she solely responsible for our misdeeds? I let her get away with-. I was a coward and you-. I had to answer for my part in it. I had to try and undo some of the damage. Even if it meant hurting you and even if it meant dying. It didn't mean I wanted to die with her. Or that I didn’t want to live with you.” 

Brienne seemed to consider it all for a minute, before settling back against the wall of the tub, watching him carefully. 

“You don’t trust me anymore.”

“I trust you.” She told him quickly, and he drank even though her cup is out of reach and he’s not sure if she’s even playing the game anymore. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re you.” She said simply. 

“That usually isn’t the result.” He chuckled. 

“Stop it.” She pled. “I trust you. You’d made me no promises.”

“Drink.” He snorted. “I made all kinds of promises. Maybe not out loud, but you heard them and then I broke them all.”

“We’re still here aren’t we?” Her voice was so soft if he moved the sound of the shifting water would be too loud to hear it. “You can still keep them. Do you still wish to keep them?”

“That’s a question, not a statement.”

“Stop it.” She told him and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. 

“I don’t get to wish things like that. I don’t deserve it.”

“Do I?” She asked him and he swallowed at the tremor in her voice. 

“What do you wish?” His voice sounded pleading and he hated it. 

“I wish you’d tell me what you want.”

“You.” 

“You have me, Jaime. I’m right here. What else do you want?” He winced at her. 

“I don’t deser-.” He shook his head. 

“Fuck what you deserve Jaime! I want to know what you want!”

“I told you.”

“For your whole life everyone has made your choices for you or you’ve made them for someone else. For Cersei, for your father, for the kingdom, for me! What do you want Jaime?” 

“I don’t know.” He shouted back at her.

“Drink.” She snipped. 

“Fuck the-.”

“Drink!” She ordered again. “You know what you want.”

“You.” He yelled again. “I want to marry you. I want to have children with you, that I can parent and claim. I want to be the person you see when you look at me. I want to right as many of the wrongs that I’ve caused as I can.” 

She was staring at him when he stopped shouting, the water around him rippling and sloshing against his body. Her face was as blank and innocent as it had been in Harrenhal all those years ago, and he almost cried when she parted her lips and whispered.

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” She nodded and the next thing he knew he’d seized forward and he’s kissing her. 

“That really wasn’t as hard as you made it.” She panted against him, her body folding itself around him.

“Drink.” He snorted. 

“I told you I don’t want to drink.” She huffed at him softly, leaning back to blink at him. 

“Why not? It turned out so well last time.” He teased, pressing forward to kiss her again. She ended it quickly pulling back to see his face, her hands clamped around his neck and shoulder. She looks at him hard, as if she’s trying to see something in his face, he holds still and lets her look. 

“Gilly says it’s not good for the baby.” She told him, her face blank her chest heaving softly in and out of the water. She watched him as he realizes what she’s said. Watched the emotions flicker across his face. The shock giving into reverence, giving way to fear and finally, awe. 

“‘You’re-?” He pushed the word out and she nodded slowly. “How long have you-?”

“I suspected it when we left Winterfell, but I knew for sure the night Arya arrived at camp.” She saw the regret seep in and she leaned in to kiss him. “Don’t do that. Don’t-.” She kissed the space between his eyes. “Don’t feel guilty. Gilly and Sam had just told me they were certain and I was terrified and a little lost and then Arya shows up to tell me that you love me. You lived, and you loved me and I was carrying our child.” 

He blinked at her before pulling her back against him.

“Our child.” He murmured against her neck. 

“Our child.” She smiled at him now, pulling his hand from her back and moving it to the front.

…………………..

  
  


“What else have you been keeping from me?” Jaime asked suddenly turning over in their bed to look at her. She was glad Hawly had asked if he intended to drink, bathe and bed at the same time, because he’d been able to tell her had permission when she’d worried it was too much. It nearly had been.

“What?” She whispered sleepily, as he stroked the hair off her damp forehead. 

“You said ‘He asked you.’ Who asked me what?”

“Today’s been a lot, my Darling. Are you sure-?”

“Stop babying me.” He snorted, rubbing his stump over her taunt abdomen. “We have an actual baby to worry about. “ 

She grinned at him, before shifting onto her side to look at him fully. He watched her take a breath, his brow furrowing in anticipation. 

“Jon has indicated that if and when he becomes King, he wishes for you to act as his Hand.” She watched his face as he contemplates what she’s said. It’s a different range of emotions that appear on his face this time. Humility, worry and fear, but mostly curiosity was what she could decipher in his expressive eyes.

“Hand of the-.” He looked at her gaping. 

“He’s quite enamored with you.” She teased lightly. “You made a heavy impression on him on your journey south.” 

“Talking kept me sane, and he needed to talk.” Jaime explained his hand still smoothing her wet hair, his face still contemplative. 

“What are you thinking?” She asked him, trailing her fingertips across his lips.

“I’m thinking..” He furrowed his eyes. “I don't know what I’m thinking.”

“You have time.” She reminded him.

“What do you think?” He asked her, his face nuzzling against her shoulder. 

“I think that this is your decision Jaime.” She reminded him. “And that no matter what you decide I will support you.” 

“Clever wench.” He made a face. “Leave me to stew on it alone.”

“Wench?” Her lips split into a smile. “I haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“I might have to bring it back.” He teased. “Do you hate it?”

“I like Love better.” She told him softly. 

“I’d like wife better.” He countered, his eyebrow arching at her in invitation. 

“It would be doing are part to unite the realm.” She sneered, before her lips curled into a sarcastic smile. “North and South. East and West.”

“That’s what you and Tyrion fought about.” He realized and she nods. “You didn’t think I still wanted to marry you?”

“I thought you deserved the right to choose.” She made a small noise when he kissed her collar bone. 

“You’re very big on giving me choices right now, my Love.” He accented the term of endearment and she sighed against his cheek. “You must have been irate. He was scared.”

“Good.” She purred. 

“My gallant knight. My fierce protector.” He peppered her shoulder with kisses before claiming her mouth. “We should get married before people question.” He looked down at her body. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think it wasn’t for the good of the realm.”

“Perish the thought.” She sighed. “I’ll have to act offended.”

“Of course.” He furrowed his face seriously. “Any good political marriage should look like it’s making us both miserable.” 

“You’re right though. We should hurry before your cub makes itself known and spoils all the allure of our dutiful misery.”

“My cub.” His throat was tight again and she carded her fingers through his unruly salt and peppered gold, as his remaining palm settled on her abdomen again. His this time, really truly his.

“Yours.” She told him. “It’ll always be yours.” 

…………

“It appears you have a flair for irony my young friend.” Jaime grinned when Jon came into the map room. 

“Ser?” He furrowed his dark brow. Jaime held up his stump and shook it dramatically. He had worked this joke into the ground with Brienne the day before. He’d asked for her hand, his chuckles coming out in staccatos as he did. Jon only gave him a half grin, which was less then the smack his betrothed had given him. “Tyrion told you.”

“Brienne told me. I believe Arya told her.” He sighed, letting his shoulders sink a little. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know how to do this.” He told him. 

“You really do.” Jaime snorted. “You have wonderful ideas.”

“And no idea how to execute them.”

“You probably shouldn’t say execute after the recent monarchy exchange.” Jaime winced. Jon paled and Jaime chuckled again. 

“You’re in a good mood.” He sounded worried.

“Brienne has agreed to marry me.” He told the Dragon-wolf, his smile turning genuine. “For the good of the realm, of course.”

“Of course.” Jon smirked back. “Congratulations.” 

“I hate King’s Landing, Lord Snow.” Jaime reminded him. “It’s not a place where I would like to live, or raise my children.”

“So help me make it one.” The young man almost pleaded. “I don’t know how to do this. You do.” Jaime took a deep breath. “The first time I saw you I thought you looked like a King.” Lannister snorted in protest. “You were so poised and regal.”

_Just before I threw your brother out a window._ Jaime thought with a wince. He almost wanted to tell him. He thought of Bran, telling him he wasn’t that man anymore. Telling him it was in the past. 

“I will never be that.” The boy shook his head. “I’m a Northern Bastard to most and an heir to the most dangerous murderous house of Westeros to others.”

“I’m not so sure about that, you seem plenty regal to me. And the death count has yet to be properly tallied. Lannisters don’t take second place well.” Jaime smiled. “But it doesn’t matter, because you’re something I’ll never be. A leader.”

“You’ve commanded armies and-.” Jaime held up his hand. 

“A commander yes, but I was never a leader.” He sniffed. “All I have ever done is follow. Usually following someone leading into disaster.”

“Then you’ll know what to look for.” The boy shrugged, grinning just slightly. Jaime couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve made mistakes.”

“We’ve all made mistakes, My Lord.” He sighed. 

“I’m afraid I’ll make more.” His eyes drifted about the room. 

“You will.” Jaime assured him, sympathetically. “I’ll try to keep them from being too colossal.” 

Jon’s eyes flipped back to him. 

“You’ll stay?”

“Let’s make this city the envy of the seven kingdoms.” Jaime shrugged and for the first time in a while the broody would be king smiled a genuine smile. “Then we’ll spread the wealth.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not going to make this a baby fic. I love baby fics and I AM sick to death of them. I was not going to make this a baby fic. I was not going to.. DAMN IT.  
> Brienne couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I apologize. Don’t blame the baby. It’s an innocent.  
> I glazed over the smut here. I promise you I’ll fix that. I needed to move the plot a little.


	7. I'm told it's where I'm supposed to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game is afoot.  
> Jaime puts on an old costume.  
> Brienne still knows who he is.

The King's Council was proceeding about as slowly and just as boring as one might expect. Each Lord and Lady giving a bit of introduction and their piece of wise wisdom from the Realm.

However; Jaime Lannister was seriously having the time of his damn life, he had missed the pageantry of court. He had missed the painfully formal way overly formal lords interacted with the North. He had missed being the feared Lion of the Rock and he was more than pleased to play the role of mistrusted ally that Brienne, Tyrion and the Starks had designed for him.

When his lovely good sister Sansa had told her uncle to _sit!_ By the Seven, he’d almost pissed himself. If his future bride had not narrowed her eyes at him so tightly when Samwell Tarly suggested widening the elections to the people, he might have guffawed. He was pretty sure his cheek was still bleeding from when he had crushed it between his molars when someone suggested the bloody Three Eyed Raven.

When the room turned to more serious contenders, Tyrion made clear that the murmurs about Jon’s parentage were true. Jaime sat beside the young man while Lords, Wildling, Night’s Watchmen and the tall unsullied -Grey Worm? He thought, maybe? - gave testimony about his leadership, his bravery in battle. The Northern Lords spoke of the parts of Ned Stark they saw in him. How despite his similarities to Robb Stark, he was cooler headed and less attached to glory and fame. A few even older Lords spoke softly of Rhaegar Targaryen and qualities of the slain prince that they could now see in his son. Samwell spoke once again, for the common man, and how Jon’s role as the Bastard of Winterfell gave him a humbleness that you would not find in many kings.

Jaime watched the Western Lords from the minor houses, their eyes on him, waiting for guidance. It still startled him, even after all this time, the pull he had in the West. The mere thought of it caused his head to ache. He looked at Brienne, exhaling slowly into a smile when he saw her, leaning against a pillar, one long leg bent at the knee, resting on her ankle, her hands slipped under her sword belt like they’d been shoved into pockets. She was magnificent. He realized the exact moment she felt his gaze on her, her lips twitching up and one of her hands sliding just a few inches further towards her middle before her eyes rose to his. He smiled back at her. She examined him closely until her eyebrows creased. He waved his hand at her dismissively tilting his head a little, she pursed her lips in concern anyway.

“We will break now.” Tyrion was saying, directing people and places. “We will meet here again in the afternoon.”

He glanced at Jon before standing slowly and turning to his brother.

“Jaime..” Tyrion sighed, rolling his eyes back towards the Westlanders.

“I know. I saw.” He sighed, rubbing at his face with his palm. “I’ll talk with them.”

“You need to rest.” Brienne was beside him now, her arm looped through his.

“I will. I promise, but I have to get this done.” He murmured to her softly. “The West has been waiting on my input and it’s time for me to give it.”

She gripped his arm for a second, her blue eyes meeting his with such intensity he had to look away.

“Will you be a good wife and gather some lunch for your poor old invalid husband?” He teased.

“Can you make it over there without my help?” Her voice was teasing, but he could see the tension at the corner of her eyes.

“Probably shouldn’t risk falling on my face.” He grinned. “But it would sooth my ego if you’d make it look like I was in the lead.”

“I’ll try.” She hummed skeptically, as they made their way across the yard. She was pleased to find him sturdier than she expected, she was even able to resist the urge to grasp his arm.“You were squinting again.”

“It’s sunny.” He smirked.

“So, shade your eyes with your hand.”

“How ridiculous-.”

“Almost as ridiculous as you’ll look sprawled out on the ground when you lose your balance.” She countered. He turned and looked at her as they approached the Westerners, all clustered together worriedly under a tent. He looked as if he’d kiss her, but she raised a quick eyebrow.

“For the good of the realm, Ser.” She told him, her low voice vibrating in her chest.

“Thank you for the escort, oh most gallant of knights.” He teased.

“Try not to swoon.” She let him go with a nod towards the Lords, and started back towards the hall.

“My Lords.” Jaime drew himself up to his full height.

“Ser Jaime.” His heart warms for a moment as Damon Marbrand stood to meet him. “It’s good to see you well.”

“ _Well_ is a fickle term Lord Damon, but I am healing nicely. None of you will mind if I sit? I’ve been stabbed, crushed and burned recently.” _Keep your tone light_ , he reminded himself. _They need the Golden Lion. Smile. Make eye contact. Don’t let them see your weakness._

“Please.” The man pointed to a chair and Jaime tried not to sigh in relief when he lowered himself into it.

“It’s good to see you. Addam had asked if you were well, I told him, rumor had it that you were alive. at least.” Damon chuckled lightly.

“Addam..” Jaime Lannister had the most awful fear he was going to cry in front of his Lords at the mere mention of his childhood friend. "He’s still-?” He cleared his throat, trying to keep it together. “I feared he had not survived the Targaryen girl’s wrath.”

“He’s alive and well.” Damon told him, his large hand clapping fatherly on Jaime’s shoulder. He nodded with a swallow.

“That’s great news.” He whispered. “Many were not that lucky.”

“And yet your brother asks us now to bend the knee to another Dragon.” Harys Swyft chortled, yanking Jaime back to the task at hand. “Why would we do that?”

“He’s more Wolf than Dragon in temperament.” Jaime told him, taking a long breath. “I’ve spent time with him, both at Winterfell and in King’s Landing. He had a deep affection for the Dragon Queen, but he could not condone her actions. He would not. He has great plans for the city, and he wishes not just to rebuild, but to renew.”

“So you agree with Tyrion? You’ve really switched sides?” The elder Westerling snorted.

“I went North to fight for the living Lord Gawen, and despite everything that transpired between our houses Jon and his sister welcomed me.”

“From what I understand it wasn’t just the Stark's that were so welcoming, My Lord.” He looked up at the lilting voice and couldn’t help but return her soft smile.

“It was quiet the cast of characters there Lady Alysanne. I found them all to be very inclusive. Even of me.” He told her honestly. “There was a little girl of ten who fought with all the heart and skill of five grown men; and I befriended a wildling who claimed to suckle at a giants teat. ’

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned despite himself. Her eyes lifted behind him and a smirk graced her pale face, Jaime didn’t wonder who had appeared.

“Ser Jaime.” Brienne reached a plate over his shoulder settling it on his knee. He used his gold hand to steady it. He watched her fingers clench in avoidance of it. Tyrion was right, it was best for him to wear it today; to be as much the product of Casterly Rock as he could, but he honestly wished that the Dragon Queen had melted the damn thing too. “And your drink.”

She said it in a way that made him look up at her, she didn’t return his gaze, focusing instead on the skyline, as if she was bored. He took the goblet she offered, smelling it first before using the cup to mask his sweet smile before taking a slow swing. The bitterness of Tarly’s headache tea was masked only by the honey she’d obviously added.

“This is very good.” He murmured, sliding his boot back until it connected with hers. “Is it Dornish?”

“I have no idea.” She told him blankly. “You know I have no use for such things as drink, Ser. It only brings trouble.”

“Of course.” He sighed in irritation, rolling his sore eyes, being careful not to squint. This was a fun game. He saw the Lady Lefford eye him knowingly and he gave her a quick wink. Feeling more and more like the Golden Lion with each passing moment. “My Lords and Ladies, might I introduce Ser Breinne of Tarth, quite amazing in combat and quite boring in actuality.”

She huffed and looking off into the distance.

“She’s been tasked with making sure I don’t do anything.. stupid.” He grinned charmingly at the crowd. “It’s sadly become her most tasking duty.”

“Do you need anything more of me or can I trust you to talk to your people without committing treason?” She raised an eyebrow. It took all he had not to smile.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll behave. You should be over with the Easterners breaking in your newly minted Lord. At Least you’ll all be getting shiny new armor, I suppose.”

“The armor I have now pleases me just fine Ser.” She delivered the line with just the right amount of jape, but Jaime could see the lump in her throat as she swallowed. If she didn't stop this soon he'd have a full cockstand in front of Lady Alysanne and all. Jaime lifted his leg until their calves touched. She continued to regard him with less interest than she regarded her socks. “I will however retire to my own side of the camp. I will return in about a half an hour to escort you to the post lunch meeting.”

He knew she meant his post lunch nap, but it seemed thankfully his banner men did not.

“I’m sure you will Ser.” He mumbled, pulling his leg back slowly before she stomped away.

“They’ve given you a babysitter?” Gawen grumbled.  
  
“An assistant.” He smirked back with mirthful eyes. “Until I am healed, or so they say.”

“They wasted a Knight to do a job of a squire?” Lord Westerling chortled. “Do they think your stupid?”

“Well perhaps they don’t know what to do with a woman in armor.” Lord Swfyt’s eyes rolled and Jaime bit his tongue to keep from jumping to her defense. Instead he chuckled lowly.

“She is quite a pain in the ass off of it, but on the battle field she’s better than most men I’ve seen. Her Knighthood is not in jest, I assure you.” He told them flippantly, like it was a simple observation.

“You seem almost taken with her, My Lord.” Alysanne again, this woman was going to make him work for it. He tried not to show her how much fun he was having.

“You know me too well My Lady, I am often taken to sympathy by tragically unusual creatures.” He sighed. “It’s hard to know if it's a pity or a blessing she finds me so distasteful.”

“Can we stop talking about the Lady Knight and Ser Jaime’s cock and return to the topic at hand?” Lord Marbrand sighed heavily.

“Sadly, I fear we must.” Jaime sighed.

“While I'm sorry for your grief, I have no love loss for your sister, Jaime.” Damon continues. “I bare no ill towards you for what she did to this city, or what was allowed to happen to the Kingdom. I am of the West, I serve Casterly Rock, I always have and I always will. You are my Lord, and if you say that the king is to be Jon Snow-Stark-Targaryen-Whatever -- then I will follow. But not all of the other houses share this devotion. They’ll need a sign from the Realm that they will be protected. That they won’t once again be ransacked by Wolf, burnt by a Dragon or misused by a Stag.” His friend's father swallowed heavily. “I’m sure similar concerns are being voiced in each camp from each direction. Your mixed breed King must find a way to unite this kingdom, or it’s his to loose.”

Jaime Lannister starred at the man grimly. He’d just delivered him everything he had been playing the game for in one easy speech. They would offer up him as Jon’s Hand, make it looked forced, like they’d swayed to the left. They would offer up Lords and Ladies for marriages, him and Brienne among them. They would place strategic families in empty houses that had once belonged to great families, now extinct. That would all help; however for the first time, Jaime realized what lay ahead. Uniting the Kingdom before it fractured back into warring pieces unable to be mended would be a great feat.

A few short years ago, he may have found it an amusing game. A mummers show to watch with detached boredom, but now all he saw was his child’s future, and he wanted that to be peace.  
For the first time since those quick bittersweet moments with Myrcella he felt like a father. And it was utterly terrifying.

* * *

As soon as they’re away from the crowd enough, Jaime slowed his steps.

“I should have come sooner.” Brienne whispered, her arm coming up and wrapping around his arm tightly. He covered her hand with his.

“I’m alright.” He told her dismissively.

“You’re exhausted.” She snipped.

“Aren’t you?” He huffed back, her eyes blinked at him in surprised consideration.

“Yes.” She told him honestly. She’d been doing her best to ignore the sinking fatigue that had been her new normal for a week now. It helped that Jaime still needed rest, giving her an excuse to beg off activities, but she was still exhausted most of the time.

“You’re so focused on me. We should be focused on you and our child. I should be making sure you’re eating and sleeping enough.” He turned his face back and arched an eyebrow, studying her skeptically. “Did you eat lunch?”

“I did.” She sniffed indignantly.

“How very diligen-.” His voice had an edge to it that she suddenly recognized.

“What happened?” She interrupted abruptly, her steps halting.

“What?” He looked at her fully.

“You’re frustrated.” She told him stiffly.

“I am.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he re-gripped her hand, tracing his fingers over her knuckles. “And I’m taking it out on you.”

“What happened? Do we need to talk to Tyrion? Is it not working?” She felt the sense of dread in her too, that this might not go their way.

“It’s working.” He whispered back, urging her forward again. “Tyrion can wait, we both need rest.”

“Jaime?” She questioned softly, as they reached their room. He pushed the door open and rubbed at his face. “Does your head-?”

“No.” He told her quickly, turning and bringing his hand to her face and stroking her cheek. “No. You fixed it and then I took your words and put my back to the sun.” She still winced at him, her fingers coming up and undoing the first few buttons of his jerkin. “I like where this is going.”

“You’re tired.” Her lips twitched up.

“I’m never that tired.” He hummed.

“I’m tired.” She countered, her skin flushing despite herself. He huffed out a dramatic sigh, letting the hand on his cheek drift down her throat to her clavicle, stroking her there.

“Fine. Come lay with me.” He let her push back the jerkin and maneuver it around the golden monstrosity. “You can take it off. I know you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it.” She told him softly, undoing the straps. “It’s a part of your past.” She could feel his gaze on her face as she pulled it back from him, rolling back the sleeve and tracing over the red marks it left behind. “I don’t hate any part of you.”

When she looks back up he looks like he might cry.

“What happened? With the Westerners?” She prodded softly, moving forward urging him back towards the bed.

“The seeds were planted, they fell for it. Except for Maybe Lady Alysenne Lefford, but she thinks the whole jape is marvelous.” He snorted. “I think you were marvelous.” She made a noise and he leaned in and kissed her jaw. “It was like swordplay, and we both know you and I are wonderful at swordplay.”

She reached behind him and pulled back the blanket on the bed as he dropped to it, letting his arms slide down her sides to her hips. She pushed at his shoulder until he scooted back into the bed so she could join him. He reached for her immediately and she let him cuddle her into his chest.

“None of that explains your frustration.” She whispered, biting the edge of her lip. She knew she should just come out and say it, but she wasn’t sure he was ready. In reality she wasn’t sure she was ready. “I’m sure that a lot of topics that you may have found difficult were brought up.”

“Well I thought I was going to have to punch the Lord of Cornfield in the face if he made one more veiled insult towards you, but other than that it wasn’t at all unpleasant.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I found out Addam Marbrand is alive.”  
  
“The Commander of the City Watch?” Her voice lilted and Jaime swallowed. “Your friend?”

“My childhood friend.” He corrected, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Oh for seven's sake.” He whispered to himself swallowing again. “I’m worse than a newly blossomed maid.” He sniffed, and she brought her hand to his face, staring at him in something between interest and horror. “I just about started sobbing and snotting right there in front of all of them because some man I haven’t talked to in years didn’t die.”

“You grew up with him.” She whispered softly, smoothing her thumb across his cheek. “He reminds you of your childhood, home…” She stopped, pushing her lip between her teeth, trying to make herself say the name.

“Lord Damon did not spare me the mention of her name and I didn’t crumble.” He whispered softly. “You can say it.”

“I’m not sure I can.” She whispered back honestly. The familiar hurt bust in her chest and she watched him wince at her. His hand glided up to hers, pressing a kiss to the backs of her fingers.

“Eventually.. “ He swallowed. “We’ll talk it through.”

“When the business of kings and weddings are through.” She murmured, tucking her head against his shoulder. She felt his lips on her forehead.

“We should probably do that before the weddings. In case you were to change your mind.” His voice was light, but she could hear the concern laced through it.

“Darling.” She murmured, burrowing deeper into his chest. “You’re not going to get out of marrying me.”

“For the good of the realm.” He hummed as his hand came up and twirled a piece of hair around one finger. “For Tarth, for our babe.”

Brienne lifted her head up and met his eyes. He looked away.

“If this is what this game is going to do to you then I think we should stop.” She told him flatly, his eyes bounced back to her face.

“Brienne..” He went to brush off her concern, but she stopped him with a look palming his cheek again to still his gaze..

“I mean it.” She shook her head. “If pretending to be Cersei’s Golden Lion is going to make you feel this way, then we’ll find another way.”

“I want to do this.” He told her softly. “I do.” He swallowed. “It was enjoyable even. I just.. don’t want to ever be him again. I don’t want to let you down again. I don’t want you to have regrets about-.”

“I wouldn’t have ever married anyone else. I wouldn’t have ever wanted anyone else's child growing inside me.” She whispered. “This wasn’t some unfortunate error born of battle lust. This is you and me. Our future, just as much as it's about the Kingdom. I know who you are, Jaime.

He reached for her other hand, pulling it up and laying it on the other side of his face.

“Remind me.” He gulped.

Brienne pressed her feet against the bed, her body stretching until she was once again even with his.

“You’re a good man.” She told him firmly, her eyes watering. “You’ve done hateful things, but you are a good man. When you make your own choices, Jaime, you make the right ones.”

“I love you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead into hers.

“And I love you.” She reminded him. “Because you saw us both beyond the roles we wore. You protected me when you had nothing to gain. You’ve risked your life for me, more than once. You trusted me, as your captor and as your commander. You wanted to do better; not just for me, but for yourself. I know who you are, Jaime. Even when you don’t.”

He kissed her so quickly she gasped before melting into it.

“How long do we have?” He panted, pulling back from her.

“Not long enough.” She murmured, pulling back, dropping small kisses against his jaw.

“We could be quick.” He almost whined.

“Later.” She stroked his face with her thumb. “Close your eyes.”

“How much later?”

“That depends on how much rest you get.” She told him, nipping at him where his throat curved into his shoulder. He hummed against her. “Sleep.”


	8. Did I ever tell you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime remembers fatherhood.  
> A new old friend enters the jape.  
> It's a time for Kingmaking.

Brienne stirred, her eyes slipping open in the dark room, she could feel his rapid breath on the back of her neck, his arm curved tightly over her hip. She knew he was awake, or he’d have rolled away by now. His sleep had always been fitful and it was even more so since they’d been in King's Landing. There had been some discussion a day or two before about separate chambers that had nearly sent her into a panic, imagining him alone with his demons in a room down the hall while she slept.

Perhaps it had been Tyrion who had brought it up? She couldn’t remember, but doubted it was anyone else in the little gang of Long Night Veterans who had assembled in the little room to discuss the current state of the Council. All she really remembered was the immediate agitation she’d sensed in her future husband.

He hadn’t said anything as concerns of unmasking their con with a shared bed was bandied about the table. At any other table, she would have probably been beet red with embarrassment, rendered speechless by the topic of her sleeping arrangements, but these were her people now; her and Jaime’s, despite themselves, and there wasn’t a soul at this table that still fancied her the Maid of Tarth. Two years ago. she wouldn’t have believed that the talk of her lovemaking would only cause her the slightest flush and minor irritation at a table full of companions, but that was all it was.

She’d prefer their current arrangement, but she could see the point that Tyrion, and it had mostly been Tyrion she thinks, was trying to make. One well placed non familiar seeing her coming or going from his bedchamber, and the game was lost. She looked back at Jaime thoughtfully and found him staring at the table. She’d been a bit surprised when he hadn’t objected, but now seeing him pale and staring at the table, she realized it would fall on her.

“ _Podrick_? _Are their strangers waltzing in and out of the White Sword Tower I haven’t seen_?” She’d sighed heavily.

“ _Of course not, Ser_.” He chirped obediently.

“ _Then if we could talk about something other than this, that would be preferred_.” The conversation had been shut down.

They hadn’t spoken about it, but he’d taken to holding her a little tighter, reaching for her a little more often in the night, as if someone might steal her away. She could tell this was the remnants of a nightmare.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked him softly.

“No.” He grunted into her neck. “It’s-. I’m-.”

“Jaime?” He pushed his forehead between her shoulder blades, ignoring her. Brienne laid her hand on his arm and rolled to face him. His face was clammy when she touched his cheek and she made the smallest noise of concern. He swallowed, pressing his face back into her body. She ran her hand down his back checking for tightness or tenderness, her fingers ghosting over the scars left by Greyjoy, finding them closed and cool.

“No need to check me over Maester, you had it right the first time.” He mumbled against her skin. “It’s just my injured soul.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me.” She told him evenly, her fingers carding through his thick hair.

“It’s not you I’m hiding it from.” He sniffed, moving towards her hand as she stroked her thumb against the edge of his face.

“Tell me about something else then.” She decided, wiggling her body closer. He readjusted his hold on her and she could see his lips purse in the darkness. “The trip south?”

“The trip south?” His eyebrows lilted and he took a quick breath. “What about it?”

“You seem to have used the time to win over Arya.” She observed, feeling his cheeks stretch into a smile against her bare shoulder. “How did that come about?”

“I think we’ve come to a mutual understanding.” He snorted. “I’m not sure I’ve won her over.”

“Hum. I don’t know. She’s been quite complimentary of you.”

“You sound quite jealous..” He teased and she scoffed.

“She’s a little young for you, my love.” Brienne raised an eyebrow.

“I’m old enough to be her father you mean.” Jaime grumbled, before his chest rose and fell slowly. He whispered the next part. “She’s younger than Myrcella would be today.” Brienne waited, her fingers still stroking the frame of his face. His hand slipped from her hip to her torso and he glided his thumb under her belly button in long soft strokes that made the small hairs on her body stand up. “That’s an odd thought.”

He’d dreamt of Myrcella, she figured then. Sweet beautiful Myrcella, that was how people described his daughter. Her baby’s sister. Brienne couldn’t yet bring herself to wish for a sweet beautiful daughter. .

“Tell me about her?” She kept her voice light, her fingers stroking, trying not to spook him. “I never met her. She wasn’t there when I met Joffrey and Tommen.”

“She was already in Dorne.” Jaime told her in a sigh. “I went there to bring her home, she didn’t understand. She was happy there. She didn’t see that Ellaria was willing to kill her out of revenge. She didn’t realize she was a pawn in the game. Maybe because Cersei had used her as a pawn for so long it seemed like love to her.” He took a long slow breath. “She was betrothed to the Martell boy. I think he loved her; he seemed to love her.” She watched a new look come over his face and it stabbed at her. “She wasn’t a little girl anymore.” He breathed. “She was a woman.” His face flickered into a smile, his eyes meeting hers as it faded into something more serious. “She knew.”

Brienne almost asked, but then she could see the hint of what he means in his eyes. The hint of regret and longing, the same look he gets when he’s thinking about their child. She furrowed her brow at him, inching her face closer and he lays his forehead against hers. “She was happy.” His voice is thin and she has to keep her breathing still to hear him despite their closeness. “I was happy. Then she died. Right there in my arms, she died.”

She expected him to break down now. It had been his state recently, the anger had given way to sadness and sorrow and it usually swept over him in the darkness of their chamber. Instead he pulled back from the warmth of her body and looked at her intently, his fingers splaying open against the barely perceptible curve between her pelvic bones. She covered her hand with his, bringing her lips to rest at the corner of his neck and inhaling deeply. They lay like that for a long time, until Brienne thought he’d gone back to sleep, until his voice broke into the darkness.

“We’re going to make a new world.” He told her meeting her eyes again, as if the conviction of his tone will be enough to make it so. “And our child, our children..” He grinned at the way her eyebrow had quickly arched. “They’ll never know this old one. The deceit and blood lust, the game of thrones.. It’ll will all be a story of the past. A cautionary tale.”

“A new world, without war.” She mumbled. It had been so long since she’d dared to imagine it. Since she’d stood as ‘Brienne the Blue’ in Renly’s rainbow guard, naive and foolish. She knew it had been longer for him, that it had been more illusive. Something he hadn’t had since Aerys perhaps? Or maybe further. “When was the last time that you felt peace? Real peace.”

“Besides Winterfell?” He smiled at her for a second before pressing his lips to hers.

“Jaime.”

“I mean it. You are my peace. You’ve been my peace since Harenhall.” He kissed her hair. “But when have I felt real peace? Casterly.. Probably not since I was a child. Perhaps since our mother died.”

She thought about what Tyrion said; about how he’d searched for love, how someone must have loved him. She felt the warmth of his palm against her abdomen and it’s suddenly all very real. Suddenly she could see the life he sees for them, in a peaceful world and it makes her heart beat faster.

“What if it doesn’t work?” She asked him softly. “What if they reject Jon?”

“They won’t.” He pulled her close to him. “They won’t, but if they did, we’ll go back North.” He’s thought of this, she realizes softly. “To Winterfell, Jon’s King there, regardless, and their is no one South of the Neck that can possibly challenge him.

“You hate the Bloody North.” She teased him softly.

“I hear it grows on you.” He whispered back. “But it won’t need to. Tomorrow, the plan will go off, and Jon will be voted King and this will all be worry for nothing.”

She pleaded with the old gods and the new that he was right.

…………………….

  
Jaime Lannister stood in front of the window fidgeting with the open buckles of his formal doublet waiting for Brienne to return from Sansa’s room in the maiden vault.

He turned his head as Podrick knocked, pushing the door open as he did.

“Ser Jaime? There’s a man here to see you, he says he’s a friend?” Pod’s eyes cast around the room just as fast as Jaime’s did. He nodded to various items of Brienne’s as Jaime grabbed them up and tossed them into the bedchamber, closing the door.

“I don’t have many of those Pod.” He murmured.

“He says he’s the Commander of the Gold Cloaks?” Jaime grinned widely. “Ser Addam?”

“Send him in.” He watched Pod’s eyes sweep the room one more time before swinging the door back to reveal Jaime Lannister’s oldest friend. “I told you I’d meet you in the solar.”

“I wanted to meet you somewhere less-. Populated.” Marbrand snorted reaching out his hand for Jaime. “Father said you looked like shit. I didn’t believe him, but here you are, looking like shit.”

“And here I was, glad you didn’t die.” The other man chuckled darkly, before tugging Addam forward and clapping him firmly on the back. “Must have forgotten what an ass you were.”

“Hey I followed your command, I rang the damn bells.”

“Lot of good it did us.” Jaime sighed. “I’m just glad it didn’t get you killed.”

“Well it damn near did.” He dropped into the chair the other man gestured to before easing into his own. “Now since you sent a member of your top secret smaller small council to bid me to meet you alone, I’m going to assume you’re looking to let me into your scheme?”

Jaime ran his teeth over his lower lip and looked at his friend carefully.

“I don’t know rather to be proud or insulted that you see through me so easily. I’m trusting you here.” His voice was low. “Can I trust you?”

“I knew your worst secret for almost thirty years and I never told a living soul.” Addam snorted.

“You knew?” The idea of it had never occurred to him. “You knew I--.”

“Fucked your sister? Yes, I knew.” The old knight grunted. “You weren’t as clever as you thought. So what ever this is, you can trust me with it.”

“I need more than for you to keep quiet. I need your help.” He blinked. “I need you to play a part in the last act of a carefully scripted ruse to make it seem as if the people have gotten what they wanted, when they’ve really been given what they need.”

“King Jon? First of his name?”

“Yes.” Jaime sighed.

“You believe in him?”

“How much to you remember Rhaegar?”

“Some.” Addam took a quick breath. “I remember I liked him. I’d have followed him. I’d have bent the knee to him.”

“He’s the best of that man with the heart of Ned Stark. He’ll be a good King and I’m going to do my best to be a good Hand to him.” Jaime suvayed Marbrand’s reaction, pleased not to find a look of horror.

“Jaime Lannister Hand of the Stark King?” He shook his head. “From Kingslayer to King Maker. How odd.” He clicked his cheek. “So you’ll keep him on course. Who’ll keep you on course?”

“I’ve been assigned a wife.” Jaime tried to make his words sound irritated, but he couldn't help the slow grin that formed. He’d have to work on that.

“A wife that’s going to be able to keep you in line? That I’d like to see.”

As if planned by the Seven themselves, the door swung open and his bride to be stormed in.  
“I am so sick of these idiot gold cloaks acting as if they are so fucking superior to the Northern Army.” She muttered, pulling off her cloak and starting to unhook her scabbard, without looking up. “Where the hell were they when we were literally fighting dead giants and ice mons-?”

“Brienne.” He halted her words. She’d just started on the buttons of her tunic, her hands frozen as she looked up to find Jaime and his guest, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks.

“I can see it now.” Addam gave an approving smirk, nodding his head slowly. Brienne’s wide eyes swept back to Jaime.

“It’s alright.” He told her soothingly. “Addam is a friend.”

“Alysanne was right, as usual.” Marbrand looked back at Jaime. “Father said she’s been goading you about it. He thought it was a nice jape.”

“Yes, well.” He widened his eyes at his bride. “Really, Love. I mean it, it’s alright, Addam’s not going to unveil us. Come sit.” He reached out and grasped her hand in his pulling her over and settling her in the chair beside him. “Ser Addam of Ashmark, meet Ser Brienne of Tarth.”

Brienne regarded him with her giant blue eyes, giving him a stiff nod.

“I’m sorry if my men aren’t giving yours the respect they deserve.” Addam said with a wiry grin still stuck to his face. “I’ll give them a stern speech. Remind them that you weren’t the ones who burnt their colleges and city to the ground.”

Jaime winced at the look of horror that slipped over Brienne’s features.

“I’m sorry, Ser.” She wet her dry lips with her tongue. “I didn’t take their recent experiences into consideration.”

“No apologizes necessary, My Lady.” Addam smiled kindly. “Maybe we’ll have to force some camaraderie upon them. Let them drink and share horrors. Maybe at My Lord’s stag party.”

Brienne looked at Jaime, worrying her lip. He took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She told them both slowly, Jaime let her grip slip away as she rose. “I should prepare for this afternoon.”

“It was lovely meeting you Ser Brienne.” Marbrand told her honestly, winking at Jaime.

“You as well, Ser.” Jaime watched the pale pink blush climb her throat with a touch of nostalgia as she scrambled into their bed chamber and closed the door.  
“I don’t think I could have picked a better match for you myself.” Jaime’s old friend clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Is this Tyrion’s doing? Where did he find her?”

“I found her myself, thank you.” He snorted. “Actually she found me. Actually Catelyn Stark started the whole damn thing in motion.”

“Good thing no one but me knows what expression you make when you want to fuck someone.” Addam grinned cheekily. “Or the jig would be up.”

“That’s your future Lady Lannister you’re japing about.” Jaime warned with just a touch of lion, his eyebrow raised slightly.

“I wouldn’t dare! She’d cut off my balls.” He snorted. “As much as I’d love to sit and poke at you about your love life. You needed something from me?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I need you to demand me to become Hand of the King. Don’t take my no, or Jon’s reluctance. Make it a clear demand. No alliance without it. The Westerlands will follow your lead. Jon and I will aquess for the good of the realm.”

“As your sweet wife will agree to marry you for that same reason.” Addam smiled in understanding.

“It will be her burden to carry, for the good of her people.” Jaime winced back with fake sadness.

“Brilliant.” He took a long breath. “The Starks and the Lannisters made formidable enemies, but they seem to make even stronger ally’s.”

“It seems so.” Jaime conceded with a peaceful grin.

……………………….

  
“We’re both going to say harsh things today.” Brienne said softly, her fingers deftly doing up the ties of his doublet. “Perhaps we should have a code word.”

“Are you worried about hurting my delicate feelings, My Lady?” He teased, tracing his fingers across her clavicle

“Maybe.” She hummed.

“I think you found little ways last time, to remind me.” He hummed, leaning in to kiss where his fingers had just traced before stopping abruptly and looking up at her. “You’re not worried about me are you?” She didn’t answer, just finished the hooks, smoothing her hands over the front of his chest. “Darling, you know that I choose you. Over the realm, over being Jon’s hand, over throwing myself off the ramparts-.”

“Jaime!” She snipped at him.

“Over Cersei.” He whispered. “Tell me you know that.”

“Jaime.” Her voice was soft and her fingers softer as they trailed over his shoulders and down his arms. He tangled his left hand with hers and she clasped her fingers around his wrist just above the gold monstrosity that dangled at his side.

“You..” He told her softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to her hollow throat. “Are my good in the world. I couldn’t be here without you. I couldn’t do what I’m doing.” He lifted her face to his and she met his eyes. “You are my peace.” He kissed her gently. “You’ve given me everything that everyone has ever withheld; honor, trust and admiration, love. A child to claim. An equal partner. Tell me you know.”

“I know.” She sighed into him.

“You can do whatever you’d like. You can call me Kingslayer and Sister-fucker. You can curse that you’re stuck with me as a husband.” He grinned a little. “Insult me all you want. I’ll hold my barbed tongue.”

“That’s hardly fair.” She observed softly.

“I’ll just sit smug and arrogant. My people will love it.” He sniffed. “Maybe I’ll mutter crude comments about our bedding to make you blush like you did this morning with Addam.”

“I did no such thing.” She huffed.

“You did too.” He insisted, running his thumb up her sternum to the base of her throat. “Right here.” She pushed away from him gently and picked up breast plate. He helped her pull it into place. “The same lovely shade as the first dress I ever saw you in.”

She cast a half lidded gaze back in his direction and he chuckled.

“Will you wear a dress when we wed?” He asked innocently.

“I would assume I must.” She answered him evenly.

“You must? You must do what ever you damn well please.” He snorted back. “You’re going to be the Lady of Casterly Rock.” They both heard the slight growl of the Golden Lion slip into his words and she couldn’t help but grin just a little. “I can’t say I wouldn’t like it though, seeing you in something that framed you. Blue. It would have to be blue, maybe a silvery blue like your armor. Silk. We’d need a seamstress from Dorne.”

“Dorne.” She spit out with a laugh. “Have you lost your mind? I don’t have the tits for a Dornish dress and you know it.”

He raised an eyebrow, grasping her waist and pulling her back in. She dropped her shoulders and did her best imitation of being annoyed with him.

“Our babe makes your tits more Dornish every day, and I was thinking of your legs my Love. Your long, powerful-.”

“Will it be difficult to banter with the Lords of Westeros while hiding a cockstand, my Lord?” She japed at him, her head tilting to the side. Her hair was now long enough to fall away from her face when she did, he reached up and twirled a piece with his fingers.

“Fair enough Wench.” He sighed and her eyebrows arched impossibly high. “I’ll keep myself together.”

“Wench.” She did her best to sound insulted, but her voice came out warm.

“I’m getting into character.” He grinned.

“You said no barbs.”

“It’s not one and you know it.” He kissed her jaw. “It’s a term more dear to me than Sweetling or Darling.”

“But not Love?” She whispered, her voice betraying her desire as he pressed his tongue to the artery of her neck.

“Not Love.” He hummed, kissing behind her ear. “That’s only for you to hear.”

“Jaime you have to stop.” She moaned, dislodging his arms from her middle. .

“Fine. Fine.” He sighed. “Later. Lets go make a King.”


	9. I hate everyone here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Storm Lords rage.  
> Arya tries to make peace with her fate.  
> Jaime is once again in trouble.

“They feel they owe us nothing. Our Lords' and our Kings' slaughtered and they feel they owe us nothing.” Ser Humfrey Wagstaff rang his pudgy hands in knots as he spit the accusation from his lips. A few other Lords nodded in agreement.

“Our Lords and Kings slaughtered each other.” Brienne reminded them firmly, her lip curling in disgust at the idea that this could have been her Lord Husband. She imagined his sweaty red body hovering above her and she had to swallow back the last bits of morning nausea that seemed to threaten her as of late.

“So the rename some bastard boy-.” Lord Errol snorted

“He’s a good man. He fought bravely. He also armed four armies with his skill.” Davos interrupted loudly.

“Just as Sannis was the good man? You wanted us to pledge to him just before he had his child burned.” Ser Cortnay Penrose sneered. “After he killed his own brother.”

“I made quick work of Lord Stannis, and we needn't waste another word on him ." Brienne announced firmly. "Gendry is a good man Ser Cortnay. You should take the time to speak with him.”

“Having a Stark wife puts us in a good position with both the crown and the North. It’s beneficial.” Ser Aemon Estermont gave Brienne a long nod. “It is the West I worry about. The Lannister's will have much power here, My Lady.”

“I am to become a Lannister, My Lord. Do you fear I cannot control my husband?” Brienne let her eyebrow quirk up.

“Not sure he could beat you in combat.” The weaselly old Wagstaff griped. Brienne slid her eyes to him.

“I’m willing to wave that requirement for the good of my people.” She countered. “And I watched him fight off the dead with one hand, surviving when others fell, so perhaps you are mistaken.”

“You almost sound like you find this match agreeable.” Brienne doesn’t look towards the familiar voice, dripping with disdain and irritation. She simply runs her gaze along the line of Storm Lords with a grimace.

“You yourself have decided me an unworthy mate, Ser Ronnet. Seems we’ve found a way to use that to the advantage of the East anyway.” She let her eyes settle on Davos, wondering silently if she was playing her hand to confidently, but the glint in his eye told her otherwise.

“What say you, Lord Swann?” Brienne asked softly.

“Mostly that weddings don’t always broker peaceful alliances, Ser Brienne. You could ask my sisters, if they and their sons weren’t dead. Killed by Stark, Baratheon and Lannister alike.”

“What of you own sons, Ser?” She prodded gently. “I know they were set against each other by this war and that they are just now able to discuss those rifts. My betrothed and his brother think very highly of Ser Balon. He is the only man listed from the old Kingsgaurd to be considered for the new.”

“Balon feels there may be a place for Donnel in the gold cloaks.” Davos provided helpfully. The Lord of Stonehelm looked down at his hands with a nod. “The rift between the Houses of the Stormlands' caused by the Baratheon mess needs to be healed. The East needs to be healed. Our new Lord, though inexperienced in court has made alliances with North, West and Crown alike. He can once again unite us. He can restore our people's standing in Westeros.”

“If we rise against him, if we fail to unite to recognize another King, we will fracture.” Whispered Arstan Selmy, Brienne’s eyes flipped to him. “The Stormlands have been too long fractured.”

The group looked among itself with mild humility. Brienne took a long slow breath before turning her eyes back to Seaworth.

“We should break now, this time in actuality.” He told them slowly. “We will meet again. With our Lord.”

Brienne joined him as the crowd broke apart.

“The more influential houses are falling in line.” She told him in a hushed whisper.

“There is still much trouble and much uncertainty.” Seaworth shook his head.

“I’m afraid my marriage is doing little to ease tensions.”

“Your marriage was for the North and the West. It was Arya’s betrothal that was to still the storm. It somehow still wasn’t enough.”  
“They know she slayed the night king and they simply do not care. They know Gendry fought for the living, they do not care.” Her voice grew more and more frustrated. “He holds favor with Jon, with Sansa, with Lannisters and no one cares!”

“They have been warring too long.” He sighed. “Serving which ever Baratheon seemed to be winning at the time, and loosing heirs to each ones ill thought conquests.”

“They act as if they have a say!” She moaned. “Gendry has the vote and he votes with Jon. This is all to ease there sore feelings!”

“Sore feelings start wars, my dear.”

“We have The Crownlands, The Vale, The North, and The Riverlands.” She whispered harshly. “Tonight we will acquire the Westerlands, The Reach and the Iron Isles. Who do they think will aide them in their war? Dorne? Do the Marsh Lords plan to ally themselves with their sworn foes?”

“It is with in our best interests to sway them Ser Brienne.” He reminded her. “I’m just not sure how we do it.”

* * *

Arya Stark had been trying to avoid her fate by staying away from the negotiations completely. Sansa would vote for house Stark and presumably, Tyrion would broker the deals that needed to be done. It was probably already done, she wondered if a gasp had gone up in the East as it had in the West when Sansa and Tyrion’s betrothal, or rather re-betrothal, had been announced.The Stormlands would be getting there turn in the sun now, women being traded to and from them like livestock. She grimaced at the thought.

“You know, It’s hard not to take offense when every time you think about our marriage you make that face.” She jumped, turning at his voice her hand landing with a smack against needles hilt. His eyebrows hit his hairline. “Oh shit! I managed to sneak up on you? You really must have been deeply damning being stuck with me to all Seven Hells.”

“I don’t know why you find this so amusing.” She hummed, swinging her hand away from her sword and looking back out at the water.

“I thought we had a deal.” He huffed softly walking up behind her and carefully laying his warm palm against the ball of her shoulder. “I don’t expect you to be a Lady and you stop acting like you don’t want to be married to me, just a little bit.”

“Just a little.” She whispered, smirking despite herself. She let her body drop back against his chest and he took a long slow breath. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“Them? My Noble Lords?” He grunted. “I was sent away so they could speak freely. They’re about a moment away from war, with whom they don’t know, but they want war. The only thing they clearly don’t want is me as their Great Lord anymore that you want me as your Lord Husband.”

“You know it’s not you, right? I don’t hate the idea of marrying you.”

“I know.” She felt his arms reach around her tentatively and she took slow even breaths to keep from stiffening. He settled for gripping each of her forearms with his large strong hands. His forehead dropping against the crown of her raven locks.”How is it that you think I don’t know who you are?”

Arya worried her lip bottom between her teeth before moving her own arms to wrap around herself, forcing his to do the same.

“How could you possibly know when I have no idea?” She pressed her eyes shut and he gripped her tighter.

She would have tried to explain to him that she only knows who she’s not. She would have let him know that she’d spent hours talking to Jaime Lannister of all people, about her fears of being made to be someones something. She would have told him that she envied her sister for knowing so completely who she was. She wanted to tell him about the bag of faces and her time in Bravos, but when she opened her eyes she caught site of a new delegation climbing up the hill from the harbor and their banners make her stomach clench.

“What is it?” Gendry asked her worriedly, watching as she leans forward studying the impossibly tall man on horse back under the pink and blue siegel of moons and suns. There was no question who he was, or why he’d come.

“Shit.” She cursed, dropping their hands away and looking back towards the dragon pit with concern. “SHIT!”

“Arya?”

“When will they reconvene? How long?”

“Half an hour, maybe less.”

“Shit. Shit!” She grabbed his arm. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“How did the Stormlands receive the news of Brienne’s betrothal?” She pulled him down the steps by the hand as she ran.

“About as well as can be expected, why?” He called.

“We have to find her.” Arya swallowed. “And Jaime.”

She eyed him critically before shaking her head.

“No. Wait. You need to find Tyrion. Have him dress you. You need to be the Lord of Storms End.”

“Why? Arya-?”

“The Evenstar just arrived.”

“Lord Selwyn?” He said absently, his eyes squinting to recall the information that Tyrion and Davos had been cramming into his head about the lands he now ruled.

“Brienne’s father.” She yelped and he blinks before his mouth falls open. “He just arrived, unannounced, rather heavily armed for a peaceful negotiation.”

“Shit.” He agreed.

“Go find Tyrion. I need to find Brienne.” She gave him a look and he nods, looking towards the Maiden Vault where he last saw the youngest Lannister. When he looked back she was gone.

* * *

“Where’s Jaime?” Brienne asked with a start as her and Arya hurry into the meeting room.

“He’s with the Western Lords touring the East side of the City.” Podrick told her dutifully. “I’ll ride out there.”

“He gave you no inclination he was coming?” Tyrion fretted.

“No!” She yelped. “He gave me his proxy via Ralph Buckler of Bronzegate.” She spits out the mans name like a curse. “Said in his scrolls he trusted me to make the right choice. I should have known that was rubbish.”

“He must have been off shore.” Davos shook his head. “Waiting.”

“Waiting for me to make a mistake.” Brienne hissed.

“Waiting to make sure you were safe.” The onion knight told her gently.

“I am not a maid of ten and four Ser Davos!” She yelped. “I do not need rescue. You’d think my father, of all people, would know that. I bet this is Wagstaff’s doing. It seems like something he would do.”

“Waggstaff…” Gendry was squinting, trying to recall something, anything, as Sansa and Tyrion frantically primped at him. “The green one. With the yellow diamonds!”

He looked at Tyrion as if he deserved a prize. The Imp grimaced at him. The boy jumped slightly as Sansa pinned him with the bronze stag medallion.

“Let Brienne and Davos do all the talking.” She told him stiffly. “Stand there and look lordly. Look the way you do when you have a giant hammer in your hand. Commanding. Like your beating steel and you need it to be just right. Look him in the eye.” She met his eyes then, her gaze steely. “Do not smile. Hold your head up.”

“Do not smile?” He asked, his mouth quirking up in confusion.

“Jaime Lannister may be able to get away with looking lordly with that eat shit grin on his face but you’ll just look goofy.” His newly betrothed mumbled from her spot beside Brienne. Gendry looked offended. Sansa shrugged.

“Jaime…” Brienne moaned rubbing her hand across her face.

“Pod will get to him before your father does.” Tyrion reminded her.

“Okay. Okay.” Sansa said rapidly. “You need to go.” She turned to the guard at the door. “Call the Bannermen!”

“The Banner-?”

“Gendry please relax.” Arya sighed, taking her place at her future husband’s shoulder. “Someday this will all be second nature. It will all be a typical day for the Lord and Lady of Storms End. Until then? We fake it.” She pulled herself up straight, her wide dark eyes fluttering over to her sister.

Sansa smiled at her as she tucked her hand into Gendry’s elbow. Not flinching when he jumped a little, glancing down. She fixed her shoulders and lifted her chin and tried to conjure up the picture of her mother in her mind. She wore the memory like one of her faces.

“They’d be very proud.” Sansa whispered, reading her mind as easily as her own. Her sisters fingers clasped around her direwolf pin. Arya swallowed hard as the band began to march, pulling the new lord along with her as they met Lord Selwyn’s men head on.  
“Lord Evenstar.” Gendry said as firmly as he’d been muttering it under his breath since they had started walking, his head tilting in acknowledgement. “We didn’t expect you.” Selwyn takes too long to bow to his new Lord for Davos’ liking. He eyes the boy, his gaze turning to Arya then back before he meets his daughter’s eyes. “We had received your request for your daughter to act as proxy.”

“That was before you decided to marry her off to the Kingslayer without so much as word to me.” The large man studied the boy with cold eyes.

“Father.” Brienne stepped forward then, her voice strong and gaze tight. “We should speak in private.”

“There is nothing you need to say. Jaston will send a maid to gather your belongings and have them brought to the boat.” He reached his hand out, waggling his fingers at her. “My daughter is not some token to be tossed to sweeten the pot for some bastard Lord.”

“Father, I will beg you to hold you tongue until you know all the details.” Arya’s eyes went wide as she looked at Brienne’s furious face. “I ask for pardon on his behalf Lord Gendry, he is sadly remiss in his understanding of events.”

“Brienne!” He hissed.

“My belongings are just fine where they are Ser Jaston, no need to spare a maid.” She held herself up stiffly.

“Lady Brie-.” The knight beside the Evenstar looked at her dismissively, like she was a petulant child refusing her bedtime.

“It’s Ser.” Gendry interrupted firmly, and his future wife has to bite her cheek to keep from grinning with pride.

“I’m sorry?” Gendry stared at Ser Jaston as he speaks. The man turned to the gape mouthed Evenstar, and waits a beat before adding reluctantly. “My.. Lord..”

“You will address her as Ser Brienne. She is a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the pride of the Stormlands. She led her men to victory in the battle against the dead as she now commands the Northern Army.” Gendry blinked and Arya decided maybe she won't regret becoming his Lady at all. “You must have heard about the Long Night, Ser. Even if you didn’t see fit to attend.”

“Thank you My Lord.” Brienne told the boy, her voice soft. “Father, It’s best that we speak in private. I know Ser Davos will gladly show the rest of the Tarth delegation to where the Stormlands have set up camp.”

* * *

“I don’t understand, Father. You said you trusted me to be your proxy.” Brienne looked at her hands.

“They want to sell you to Casterly Rock like a broodmare and you expect that I will sit on Tarth-.”

“That announcement happened not an hour ago.” She whispered, her hand unconsciously slipping to her waist. “There must have been some improvements in our naval fleet if you were able to make it from Tarth that quickly.”

“Daughter..”

“There are things at play you don’t understand Father.” She cried.

“I understand that my bastard lordling wants to marry you off to the Kingslayer to appease his people into voting for a bastard king.” He grunted, Brienne bit at her lip.

“Bastards.” Her chin trembled. “Jon was conceived in love.”

“The Dragon Prince discarded his wife so he could bed some naive northern girl and I am supposed to believe it was a love match because some cripple boy says so?”

“Is that how you see me? A naive girl of four and ten? Is that why you sat at sea and waited for me to make a mistake so you could charge to my rescue?”

“You have made no mistake.”

“No.” She agreed, her body sliding into a chair when she fears her legs won’t hold her any longer. “But you have.”

“I only wanted to protect-.”

“I am a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. I have fought the living and the dead. I command armies. I was under consideration for Lord Commander of the Kings Guard for Seven’s sake.” She looked at him again and the tears she’d been holding at bay slide over her apple cheeks.

“And still the treat you like a cast away. Tossing you to the Kingslayer-.”

“His name is Jaime.” She pressed her eyes shut tightly. “And they’ve tossed no one. I love him. We are all but wed. We have been for moons. I carry the heir to Casterly Rock in my womb.”

“Brienne!”

“I’m not the insecure girl you tried to marry off! Where was your concern for my worth then? I’m no longer a joke to be played. I am a commander of armies and I am loved.” She looked at him intently. “I know that must be very hard for you to believe.”

“I-.” Her father sputtered.

“Vote for Tarth however you please. That is your right to do so.” She took a long slow breath. “But I know these people Father. I have fought beside them. I would do it again. They are my people. Make no trouble for my betrothal, if for nothing else to protect your grandchild from becoming one of those Bastards you so clearly look down on.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He muttered darkly.

“Then say nothing.” She sighed.

“I merely thought-.” His words were cut off when the door was thrown open and Podrick appeared out of breath.

“Ser?”

“What ever it is can it wait?” She plead, he shakes his head.

“It’s Ser Jaime.” He rushed out the words. "It seems some Stormlords had already found him before I did.”

“Fuck.” She hissed as she jumps to her feet, despite her father’s astonishment at her foul tongue. She swings her head back around to look at him. “What have you done?”

“Brienne, I-.” He shook his head.

“You should have trusted me.” She whispered harshly before hurrying out the door after Pod.


	10. Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has a hard head.  
> The Evenstar is outmatched.  
> The realm united?

* * *

The world swam back to Jaime Lannister in a swirl of color and sound. 

“Fuck what now?” He moaned his eyes finally focusing on the weave of the grey tunic hovering in front of his face. A large hand pressed a wadded up cloth to the side of his aching head.

“He’s waking up.” Tarly. He should have figured as much. He blinked again. “Slowly Ser Jaime.”

He moved his head to the side, Tarly’s hand following along. He was in the East Watch Barracks he realized slowly , examining the walls. His eyes slid lazily about until they caught sight of a man too impossibly large to go undetected in any room other than this. His familiar blue eyes met Jaime’s for no longer than a minute, leaving no doubt in his mind who he was. Well, Lannister thought with a sigh, that explains a lot. 

“See I told you he’s going to be fine.” He heard Tyrion say sharply. “He’s got more lives than Beric Dondarrion.”

“Dondarrion is dead Tyrion. For hell's sake.” Arya muttered. “That’s not helpful.”

“I’m just trying to draw a parallel.”

“This is all my fault.” Came a ragged whisper. 

“The fuck it is.” Jaime grumbled, trying to move towards the voice.

“Hold still please.” Samwell instructed. Jaime snorted at him.

“Come here.” He ordered into the air. “I can’t see you, and as lovely as Tarly’s sweat drenched armpit is, I’d rather look at you.” He could hear the chair scrape and her heavy footsteps before she was crouching beside the cot for just a second before collapsing into a heap on the floor. Her tight brow held the tears in her shining eyes as she ground her teeth into her bottom lip. He winced for half a beat before swallowing hard and forcing a sweet smile. “That’s better.” 

He fumbled for her hand and she met his palm with hers. 

“I didn’t think you could look worse.” She muttered. 

“You say the sweetest things, Wench.” He grinned, tasting the tang of blood on his tongue as he did. 

“I’m going to have to stitch this.” Sam sighed from above him. “But I don’t think the socket is broken. Ser Jaime do you know where we are?”

“East watch.” He sighed, blinking as a trickle of blood made its way towards the corner of his eye. Brienne moved it away with her thumb and Sam handed her another piece of gauze. 

“Good, and can you tell me what you were doing before this?” 

“Getting punched in the face?” He grinned, getting a snicker from Arya and a groan from his brother. Brienne simply sighed, he squeezed her fingers and continued. “I was spouting off boring facts about the Sept of Remembrance when a dissatisfied tour participant took a swing.”

“It’s not exactly how I remember it going.” He heard Ser Addam grouse from somewhere above him.

“It seems the Stormlands may still be undecided?” Jaime raised and eyebrow at her and she dropped his gaze.

* * *

Selwyn Tarth was not a man who was easily shamed, but he couldn’t help but think that he’d underestimated his daughter. He stood sheepishly in the corner of the busy room watching her interact with people he’s only heard of through word of mouth. Larger than life political players, the noble houses of Westeros, and she clearly belongs. 

“Would someone care to explain to me how this actually happened?” She all but demanded of the two Maesters hovering around the battered Kingslayer before lifting her eyes to the Commander of the Gold Cloaks. He shook his head. 

“Shh.. Darling don’t yell, my head is splitting.” A coy voice rumbled from the bed. 

“I’m talking to Addam.” She told him sharply, her fingers clutching at the collar of his shirt, while palming his face with the other hand.

“Said he knew the guy, they went off to have a private conversation and the next thing I know.” Marbrand gestures wildly towards the cot. “He’s out cold on the ground and the fucking Easterners are rumbling with the damn Westerners. I just grabbed him up and headed back this way.”

“Who was it, Jaime?” Came an irritated hiss from somewhere in the crowd and the Evenstar bent his body to see the Lannister Dwarf pacing in the background. “Which fucking idiot Storm Lord clocked the damn Hand of the King?” To his left Lord Baratheon rubbed his face. 

“A former suitor of my bride.” The soft voice of his soon to be good son informs them, Slwyn can hear the smirk from across the room. He watched the man struggle to sit up.

“Don’t move.” His daughter hissed. “Hold still and let them check you.”

“I’m alright, calm down.” He told her.

“You are not alright.” Her high pitched voice hurt her father’s head. “Maester Hawly said another blow to the head could cause permanent damage.” 

“Shh..” The warm voice soothed. “It’s alright Sweeting, you of all people know I have a hard head.”

“Hold still.” She whimpered.

“Yes My Lady.” He covered Brienne’s hand with his own. 

“This is all my fault.” She moaned again.

“So.. Tormund the Giantsbane did this?” His daughter's squire mumbled in confusion.

A chuckle bubbled out of the prone man in the room that turned quickly into a groan. 

“I’ve had other suitors you know!” His daughter snipped. “Hold still. Stop Laughing your going to hurt yourself.” 

“Well since I’m fairly certain I can still fight off short pudgy old men..” He prodded.

“Ronnet” The young squire, Pod, and his daughter said at once. 

“I’ll end him.” Brienne muttered darkly. “I will take my sword and-” 

“You will do no such thing.” Her betrothed ordered, pulling their joined hands to her stomach. 

“Fine.” The tiny girl that was with his new Lord shrugged. “I’ll kill him.” 

“Arya.” Shouted Davos Seaworth. “You cannot kill the heir to House Connington.”

“First you make me Lady of Storm’s End and now you say I can’t kill people?” She snorted at the onion knight.

“No one said you had to stop killing people.” Came a patient voice from the younger portly Maester. “Just preferably not your own people.”

“Some idiot Lord of some insignificant house is not ‘my people’. Jaime and Brienne are my people.” She balked. 

“I must be seriously injured, My Darling, I thought I just heard Arya Stark claim me as her kin.”

“Please Ser Jaime, you really need to stay still until the bleeding stops.” The older Maester sighed.

“I’m not going to bleed to death from a little cut when I survived being gutted by a fucking Kracken.”

“What about his head?”

“It’s still attached, my lady.” The man told his daughter with a sigh.

“I’d take a go at Connington.” The squire added with a charming level of excitement.

“Pod still gets to kill people?” 

“Pod is not killing anyone.” His daughter huffed.

The Imp let out an ugly sigh before climbing onto a nearby chair and smacking the table until all the faces in the room turned to him.

“Gendry will deal with Connington. Strip him of something. His stupid title should do it. Arya you can choose who to give it to. Make it a wildling or a commoner without a pot to piss in. Davos remind the rest of the Stormlands that their new High Lord and Lady have alliances with the West and North that aren’t easily broken, perhaps remind them that Arya is a well known assassin? It couldn’t hurt.” He huffed. “Pod go inform my wife about today's events and see if she can push the vote a little further into the evening.”

“Yes Lord Tyrion.” The boy called back as he rushed out the door. 

“Who’s with Jon?” His future goodson asked struggling to sit despite the Maester's irritated grimace and his daughter’s worried gaze.

"Stay down." She pushed him back and ran her fingers lightly across the bruise forming on his cheek. 

“The Northernmen. Grey Worm.” Tyrion told him and the group exchanged a cluster of worried looks before Jaime Lannister speaks again. 

“Addam.” He said softly. “If you could please.” 

“Of course.” He looked more than a little honored if Selwyn could say so.

“Arya, you should go with him, let Jon know everything’s alright.” Brienne whispered her eyes never leaving Lannister. “And check on your sister.”

“I’ll stay with Sansa so you can stay here.” The girl nodded. 

“No. You’ll meet with Dorne.” Selwyn watched Lannister force his way upright despite protests from the Maesters and his daughter. “Pod can stay with your sister for a short time, but Brienne has a job to do as well. We all have jobs to do.”

“Fine. I’ll meet with Dorne.” She huffed looking at Jaime with concern. 

“Stop it.” He grinned. “All of you, I’m alright.”

“You were barely on your feet before this happened.” The girl countered before sliding out the door as if she was never there to begin with. 

“Well several people tried to kill me.” He called after her. “I suppose it’s becoming a theme.”

“You are very annoying.” Brienne stated drolly. 

“I’m injured and you’re being mean?” He scowled at his daughter. 

“You said you were fine.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t still want you to coddle me.” 

“I don’t feel much like coddling you.” She lied, pressing her lips to his brow. “I feel like introducing the Red Ronnet to our sword.”

“In all fairness I did sucker punch him with my gold hand the last time we met.” Jaime shrugged, wincing as he did. 

“When?”

“Two years ago?” He furrowed his brow. “Give or take.”

“Over what?” Selwyn watched her fingers ghost over the edges of his face, marveling at the way the Kingslayer looked at her.

“What do you think?” 

“You’re going to get yourself killed defending my honor one of these days.”

“Better keep you close then.” He told her, his voice low. “You’re quite formidable.” 

“I hate the East.” She sighed, her eyes sinking shut. Selwyn felt his stomach twist at her words. “All they do is complain.” 

“Stormlords are stubborn.” Jaime grinned. “It’s a trait I’m familiar with.”

The door swung back open and the population of the room doubled again. 

* * *

“Look who we found charging up the hill.” Arya smirked at Brienne and Jaime as she burst back into the room.

“Who was it?” Jon demanded, his face pinched angrily. 

“We won’t stand for this.” Sansa shook her head. 

“Calm down.” Jaime repeated behind her. He was being far to calm and controlled for her liking. “Everything’s fine.”

“Arya said they beat you unconscious.” Her lady huffed.

“For Gods’ Sake.” Jaime let his head bob back to the ceiling. “You both know I’m barely on my feet on a good day. The Red Fucking Ronnet got in one good sucker punch. That is all. Now both of you have better things to do then worry about me.” 

“Sansa.” Tyrion turned to look at his wife. “How was your meeting with Yara?” 

“Productive. I no longer think she will object.” She gave him a quick nod. “And you can cross another vacancy off your small council.”

“Good.” He sighed. 

“Lady Stark may I bid you to take my bride with you and insure that she eats something?” Jaime asked her, absently stroking a stray hair from Brienne’s face. 

“Jaime.”

“I’m fine. I need to talk to Jon and my brother. You need to eat and try to rest.” He raised an eyebrow at her, taking her hand and touching it to their babe again. She gave him a dirty look as her shoulders slumped. “It’s a long day, and it’s only just begun. 

“Brienne.” Sansa said sweetly. “I would enjoy your company.”

“You’re sure?” She murmured and he nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You won’t. I’ll meet you back in our rooms after the vote.”

“Jaime..” She protested sharply

“Sam?” Lannister quipped.

“That should be fine Ser Brienne as soon as his head stops bleeding.” 

“See?” He smirked, his eyes following her. She continued to protest until the Sansa closed the door closed between them. 

“He’s right.” Sansa whispered, Brienne rubbed at her forehead as the other woman started towards the camp just outside the dragon pit. “We have much to do.”

“There is always much to do.” She moaned. 

* * *

“How are you really?” Samwell asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m seeing double and I want to throw up.” Jaime shrugged. “So not that different then every day this past month.”

“Shit.” Jon rubbed his face. 

“Don’t worry about me, Jon.” The Kingslayer told him sharply. “Do you have the Reach?” 

He glanced at the back of his friends head knowingly.

“Not yet.” He murmured. 

“Then forget about the Stormlands until you have it.” He reminded him. “They are mostly bluster.”

“That bluster just knocked my Hand unconscious.” The future king moaned. “And rumor has it Lord Tarth is out for our heads because you’ve defiled his daughter.” 

“Lord Tarth? Are you out for our heads?” Jaime called, looking towards the man where he stood pressed against the wall. Jon’s head shot up. 

The Evenstar's eyes widened much in the same way his daughter’s did and it made Jaime Lannister grin. 

“I do beg your pardon. Jon, this is Lord Selwyn of Tarth. Lord Selwyn this is Jon. Your future King.” 

“Your Grace.” The large man fumbled over his words despite himself. Jon continued to stare. 

“Now as you may expect, I have a few things to discuss with Brienne’s father and I think I’m well enough to no longer need two Maesters.” He gestured at Sam. “You solidify the Reach, and afterward perhaps you and Lord Selwyn can spend a few moments this evening going over your plans for Flea Bottom and what you’ll be needing from Tarth?” 

Jon nodded, looking at the Evenstar and nodding again. 

“I would like to let Ser Addam into our plans for him.” He raised an eyebrow and the younger man nodded. “Addam old friend, if all goes as expected, tomorrow we are going to appoint you formally, but it seems we are in need of someone to guard the future king today.”

“Excuse me, my Lord?” Marbrand’s head snapped up.

“You come highly recommended.” Jon grinned. “And I’d be honored to have you as Lord Commander.”

He looked from Jon to Jaime and back.

“I’m-. Sorry?”

“My wife was my first choice, but she has other obligations currently.” Jaime grinned. “So you’ll do.”

“It’s.. my honor.”

“Try to be better at it then I.” He sighed dramatically, and looked at his future King. “Now. Go get us the Reach.”

Jon nodded. 

“Sam.” He called to his friend. “I need to speak with you.” 

Tarly looked at Hawly and back again at Jon. 

“Addam.” Jaime bit his lip as they spoke quietly by the door. “I don’t need to tell you how risky the next few days will be for him.”

“You don’t.” Marbrand sighed. ‘I’ll make you proud.”

“Thank you.” He sighed, before turning his face back to his good father. “We should talk.” He sighed. “Tyrion if we could have the room please.”

“I should probably stay. People seem to want to kill you lately.” The dwarf snorted. 

“Hawly will stay. He can fetch a guard if I need one. I won’t need one will I Good Sir?” Selwyn shook his head and Tyrion took his leave. “I apologize for not rising, I cracked my skull at the battle for King’s Landing and one of your pitiful attempts at marrying off my bride rearranged it again this afternoon.”

Selwyn said nothing, what could he say?

“I would have asked you for her hand months ago. Should have years ago, probably..” He looked away. “But I know it’s not yours to give me. Brienne makes her own choices; takes her own vows. No one can force her to do anything.” He chuckled. 

“No.” The older man agreed. Lannister waited a beat before deciding to go with honesty.

“I had a daughter once.” Jaime winced at how his voice rasped. “One who, despite my best intentions, I could not protect. She was offered in political marriage, and when I went to rescue her she told me she didn’t need saving. I don’t know if I caused or simply hasten her downfall. She could not see the enemies around her. I promise you that your daughter is surrounded only by allies.” 

“I am beginning to see that.”

“She has been willing to die and kill for them and they will do the same for her.” He swallowed, squaring his shoulders. “I will do the same for her.”

“And your child?” Jaime’s mouth twitched in surprise. 

“She must have been properly pissed off if she mentioned the child.” He sniffed back a chuckle. 

“She was.” He heaved a heavy sigh. ”Apparently rightly so.”

“You shouldn’t have underestimated her, My Lord.” Jaime smiled sadly. “It’s a mistake few make twice.”

“She’s not the same girl who left Tarth nearly ten years ago.” He looked off somewhat wistfully. “So determined, but so insecure.”

“I met that girl once, long ago. The world has taught her quiet a bit since then, Lord Selwyn.”

“And you Ser Jaime? Have you taught her?” Jaime thought he had tried not to sound as accusing as he did, but failed blushing as red as Brienne would have. He only smiled slyly. 

“Not nearly as much as she’s taught me.” He said honestly. “If you’ll please Sir, my brother and I have much to discuss. I’ll have someone take you to Gendry. You should spend some time with him. It would be good for him to have an ally on his side. Then if you’d speak to the future King, give him a moment of your time and attention, I think you’ll be surprised.

* * *

“You want _me_ to be Lord.. of the Reach..” Samwell Tarly’s face contorted into the familiar unsure scowl that Jon was used to. 

“Yes.” He told him firmly.

“The Reach?”

“Yes. The Reach. That’s what I said.” Jon told him, his eyebrows raised slightly. 

“There must be another Lord or house that-.”

“There really isn’t.” Jon told him honestly. “What the dragon queen didn’t burn was weak to begin with. The war was hard on the region. Old noble houses are being run by lesser kin. It will not be easy to rebuild.”

“I thought you wanted me with you here?” Samwell sighed.

“I do.” He assured him. “Which is why your mother will act as Warden of Highgarden in your absence.”

“My mother? Warden of Highgarden?”

“Unless Gilly wants to take it on now. I figured she and the children would want to stay here with you.” 

“My common law wife - from beyond the wall- The Lady of Highgarden?” His voice rose three octaves, Jon winced. “Lady Olenna is rolling in her grave!”

“Actually Jaime, Brienne and Sansa assure me that she would have loved that aspect most of all.” Jon smiled at him. 

“Highgarden?”

“Highgarden.” Jon huffed. “As payment, for both your loyalty and the wrong committed against your family by mine. The Targaryen side of mine.” 

“Jon, I-.” He snorted. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say yes.” Jon shrugged. 

“Yes?”

“Good then. I hope to have your vote this evening, Lord Tarly of Highgarden.” He gave a quick nod to him before moving off with Addam Marbrand following him in step. Sam remained near the East Watch as Jon returned to the Dragon Pit. 

* * *

  
  


“The Riverlands.” Sansa whispered, mindful of Brienne’s sleeping form on the big armchair in the corner of the tent decorated. “Lord Edmure Tulley aligns with the Starks of Winterfell. Ser Bronn of the Twins will act as Master of Whisper. He is to Marry Lady Wylla Frey.”

“The Reach?” Tyrion asked her next. 

“Lord Samwell Tarly aligns with me. His mother Lady Mellessa will act as Warden of the Reach.” Jon called, striding confidently into the room. 

“Shh!” His sister pointed at the sleeping knight. 

“Samwell will act as Grand Maester. His sister Talla will be in residence at the Hall of Learning.” He said softer.

“He took it okay?” Sansa whispered to her brother. 

“As expected.” John smiled. "And of the North Sweet Sister?"

“The North knows no king but Stark.” She claimed with a grin, reading her own region from the list. “Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell will Warden the North. Her sister Arya Stark of Winterfell will wed Gendry Baratheon of the Stormlands. Sansa will honor her marriage to Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock.”

“Poor dear.” Tyrion japed, with a sly smile. 

“They will have lots of babies and distribute them evenly among the seven kingdoms.” She finished, her eyebrows raised at him in challenge. 

“As my lady wife commands.” Tyrion grinned. 

“Can we not?” John huffed, dropping into the chair beside his good brother. 

“The Westerlands.” She passed the paper and pen to her husband. 

“Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock pledges the West to Jon Stark. Jaime himself will serve as Hand of the King. He takes Brienne of Tarth as his Lady Wife. His Uncle Kevan will warden the West in his absence. Ser Addam Marbrand of Ashermark will act as Lord Commander of the Kings Guard. Gemma Lannister will marry Alesandor Torrent of the Vale. Much to his chagrin.” He finished writing with a flare of his pen before passing the book back to his bride. 

“The Stormlands’ Lord Gendry Baratheon pledges allegiance to Jon Stark. He takes Arya Stark of Winterfell as his Lady wife. He offers Brienne of Tarth as the Lady of Casterly Rock. He offers Ser Balon and Ser Donnel Swan to the Kingsgaurd and City watch respectively. He offers Ser Davos Seaworth as Master of Coin.” She read. “And his bride promises to kill anyone who gets in our way again.”

“The Vale” Tyrion continues with a slow smile. “Lord Robyn Arryn pledges fidelity to in alliance with the North. He pledges Ser Mychel Redford to as Master of War. House Torrent will receive Gemma Lannister as it’s Lady.” He chuckled at that again. 

“Iron Islands. Lady Yara Greyjoy stands with house Stark. She will serve as Master of Ships under King Jon. She will offer Ser Graydon Goodbrother to the Kingsgaurd and appoint her cousin Bormund Harlow Warden of the Isles in her absence. She offers Ser Geysella Goodbrother to King’s Landing to the Hall of Learning.”

“And Dorne.” Tyrion whispered softly. 

“Arya is with them now.” She looked worriedly at Jon.

“It will work. It has to work.” He exhaled slowly. “Surely they want war no more than we do.”

“Let us hope.” Tyrion said softly, before the soft sound of someone clearing their throat caused everyone's attention to drift to the tent flap. There stood a sheepish Selwyn Tarth. 

Sansa’s eyes lifted to Brienne. 

“Please don’t wake her yet.” He gestured helplessly. “I’m sure she’s tired.”

“Very.” Tyrion told him, his voice sharper than he intended. 

“I’d offer my apologies, but I feel they’d been inadequate."

“Not at all Sir.” Sansa whispered, her hand coming to rest on Tyrion’s in an attempt to calm him. 

“My future good son suggested that I speak with our future king.” He nodded to Jon. The younger man blinked at him. “I’d like very much to do that.” 

“Please.” He gestured to the table. “Join us.”

“I’m going to check on Arya and Dorne.” Tryion mumbled, shuffling off his chair and out the door. 

“If you’ll forgive my Lord Husband.” Sansa whispered. “His brother is very dear to him, and he’s been through quite a lot recently. 

“So I gather.” The Evenstar sighed. 

“Please Lord Selwyn,” Jon gestured again to the chair and the older man nodded before taking it. “What questions can I answer for you?” 

* * *

“My father dreamt of being a Dayne of Dorne.” Arya smiled softly at the woman before her. “He told us stories of Ser Authur. He admired him greatly. As did Ser Jaime Lannister. He’s not one who speaks fondly of anyone, but he does of your uncle.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember him much.” Allyria Dayne told Arya, her eyes moving to her nephew. “But Edric remembers you, from your travels.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t kind to him. It was a difficult time for me. War had torn my family apart”

“I understand that.” Allyria smiled sadly. “That time came to Dorne not to long afterward.” 

“And tore my family asunder.” Sarella Sands looked at the Dayne girl sharply before turning to Arya. “In no small thanks to the Lannisters.”

“Your father’s confidence was his undoing.” Arya said boldly. “Much as my father’s honor was his. The Lannister's seem to just have the good fortune to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Yet you side with them, despite what they did to your House.” The Sand Snake hissed. 

“I side with them because when the world was ending they both arrived to help us stop it.” She looked her evenly. “They are not their father, sister or nephew. They are much more like young Myrcella. Maybe you met her, she spent some time in Dorne.”

Sarella blinked and Arya knew she’d won. 

“What can you offer us?” Allyria asked softly. 

“Jon will elevate House Dayne to Wardens of Dorne. You will be the Lady of Starfall, and House Dayne will receive Water Garden.” Sarella’s back was rod straight, but Arya noticed she did not flinch. “Sarella, you and your remaining sisters will become legitimized as Martells. You will regain Sunspear for your family. You will be given the title of Maester from your studies in Oldtown.” Her eyebrows arched into her hairline. The Little Wolf grinned. “You did not fool Maester Tarly, _Alleras,_ he’s almost as smart as you.” The younger woman’s eyes dropped to the ground and she grinned despite herself. “Which is why King Jon will want your help in designing the Hall of Learning. He’d like you to be Head Maester, the title given to the person tasked with the running things there.” 

“Running?” 

“Yes.” Arya smirked, before lowering her eyes. “Ser Jaime also wants to offer you the remains of Ellaria Sands. He and Lord Tyrion feel you should take her home, and lay her to rest with your father.”

The eldest remaining Sand Snake swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded. 

“He would have wanted it that way. Despite everything.” The girl nodded. 

“I would also like to offer both of your families a chance to unite in marriage. One of your younger sisters, if they’d like, could be promised to Ser Edric. If he’d like.”

“Elia.” Edric said quickly, causing his aunt to snort. “I um.. I know.. Elia.”

“I had heard that rumor.” Arya grinned, turning to Sarella who licked her lips to keep from laughing. “If you feel your sister would oblige?”

“I do think she might, My Lady.” The woman sighed, and with that Arya Stark brought Dorne into the fold.


	11. I don’t like nobody but you, I hate everyone here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jaime, he never gets the respect he deserves  
> Brienne will have none of her fathers bs.  
> Westeros knows no King but the King of the North.  
> She needs him to stay.

Jaime sat as still as possible at the end of the table with Maester Hawly at his side, trying to pretend that he wasn’t seriously hurting. He watched as Arya Stark moved fluidly towards Jon, gesturing to the woman at her side. He held his breath until he saw the look of surprise and interest flood onto the future King’s face, exhaling with a glance towards Allyria Dayne. She smiled widely at him, lifting her cup and tilting it towards him. He smirked back in response, before sipping at Tarley’s tea, still ridiculously disguised in a wine goblet. He felt old and useless, despite the fact that he had just been apart of the most complex political orchestration that had ever been. 

The Stark girl dropped into the chair beside him for a moment. 

“How’d the introduction go?” He hummed, not bothering to look at her. She rarely made eye contact in a crowded room. Always on alert. 

“You were right. Sparks flew.” She sounded disgusted. 

“I told you.” He sighed. 

“How did you know?” She tilted her head towards him, her eyes still fixed on the room. 

“Your brother and I share a taste for unconventional women.” Arya made a face and Jaime chuckled despite the fact that it made his head throb. “Bossy, clever, warrior women who refuse to be limited based on what they have between their legs.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Seems your Lord Husband feels the same. I hear he’s game with your plan to sail the seas? Explore the rest of the world?”

“I’ve reconsidered.” She told him softly and Jaime tried to look both surprised and unimpressed when he was neither. “Gendry needs me. The Stormlands are an unruly mess. They won’t respect him, but they will respect me, and my sword.” 

“They damn well will.” Jaime nodded before grimacing.

“Should you even be here?” She tried to sound annoyed, but the concern crept in. It reminded him of Brienne. He turned and looked at the girl. He wondered how much his potential daughter would be like the two of them. 

“I’ll live.” He sighed. 

“I gave Griffen’s Roost to Hot Pie.”

“You gave House Connington to a pastry?” Jaime asked her cheekily. 

“He’s a plump little orphan boy I met when I was recruited for the Nights Watch. He a man now and he’s from the Crowlands. And Since the Crownlands are part of the Storm Lands now I thought it almost legitimate. I’m going to marry him off to Alynne Connington.”

“I hope she likes pie.” Jaime raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t really care if she likes pie.” Arya lifted her chin, pressing her Tully nose into the sky. It once again hit Jaime ironically that Catelyn Stark's daughters defended him so, he watched her lips twitch. “But doesn’t everyone like pie?” 

“He’ll need an actual name.” Jaime smiled. 

“Yes. I’ve given him one. His name is Jaime Connington of Griffin's Roost.” 

“Hot Pie to his friends, of course.” Jaime’s smile widened. 

“Of course.” She grinned back. 

“I’m oddly honored.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Your Good Father went with us to deliver the news.” Lannister’s head whipped around so quickly he actually gasped at the bolts of light that shot up his neck and into his skull. “Careful.” Arya snorted, waiting until the wince on his face subsided. “And although he wasn’t quite as eloquent as your beloved, his steadfast defence of your honor was quite something.” 

“Brienne must have gotten to him.”

“Brienne has been asleep in Tyrion’s tent since lunch.” She smirked and Jaime felt his heart swell a little at the thought of her exhaustion. “He said it was the epic drama he saw being played out in the East Watch, made him realize that his daughter was right when she said there were factors he didn’t understand.” Jaime blinked as she turned to face him. “He’s promised his guidance in the Stormlands, brought a few of the older houses in line.” 

“Good.” Jaime croaked. “The alliances are working.”

“You did well, Kingslayer.” She sighed, trying to sound defeated.

“Thank you, Little Wolf.” He tipped his head to her gently as she strode off to join Gendry. 

* * *

“Well, look who has decided to join us.” Brienne’s body stopped stretching when she heard her father’s voice, her back going rod straight. 

“How long have I been asleep?” She asked warily. 

“Long enough for us to know that you haven’t been getting enough rest, Sweet Sister.” Sansa’s sweet voice lilted. Brienne met her face with a smile. 

“Caring for my brother is a full time job.” Tyrion mumbled before looking from the Evenstar to his daughter. “We should be going, My Lady. We’ll need to get things started.”

“Already?” Brienne stood too quickly, her hand came back and grasped the back of the chair for support. Sansa’s eyes widened in concern, but she waved her off. “You let me sleep too long. I have to check-.”

“Jaime’s fine.” Tyrion told her quickly. “Already seated. I had Hawly close by and Arya is keeping an eye on him. You have time.” He slid his eyes to her father. “Podrick is going to accompany Sansa to her seat.” 

Brienne glanced up at her squire who gave her a quick nod. 

“Dorne?” Brienne mumbled worriedly as Tyrion climbed down from the chair and started to the door. 

“Everything is set.” Sansa whispered. “Stay here with your father for a while. You’ll hear the horns. Come to me then?”

“Yes My Lady.” Brienne answered obediently.

“As a sister Brienne.” Sansa told her softly. “Not as a sworn guard. That’s Podricks duty, as of now.”

She watched Tyrion and Sansa leave, Jaime’s brother giving her father one last wary look before the tent flaps swung shut. 

“Starlight, I believe I owe you an apology.” He swallowed hard as Brienne dropped back into the chair, her eyes fixed on the table in front of him. “Your friends have spent the day setting my straight.” She looked at him then, her eyebrow quirking up. “It’s quite humiliating being chastised by a not yet crowned King nearly young enough to be your grandchild.” 

“I’m sure Jon didn’t chastize you.” Brienne snorted. 

“More like a strongly worded rebuke of my actions and a lesson in their futility.” 

“Did you send Ronnet after Jaime.” She asked boldly, her voice as icy as the outer walls of Winterfell.

“It was Ser Humpfrey.” He said solemnly. “He told me he would take care of it and I didn’t ask for specifics.”

“And if he had given them?” She murmured.

“Brienne, I was mistaken.”

“And if Jaime had been killed?” She forced the words out. “If your hiddious matches from two of the seven hells had plotted a little more roughly? If that idiot Connington had hit him a little harder, or just an inch to the left and your indifference to my opinion on my own life had made me a widow before I’d been a bride?”

“I never intended-.”

“We’ve survived so much.” Her voice broke. “So much. More than you can imagine Father, I promise you that.” She pressed her eyes shut. “We are so close to a different life, a life where we control our own destiny. Finally, safe. When I think that it could all have been lost in the blink of an eye because the my father and the bloody war-lusting Storm Lords suddenly, after a life of mockery and dismissal, feel my fucking honor is worth their defense!”

She returned her gaze to him to find his eyes trained on the table. 

“I served House Stark. I have been under their protection and I have protected them as well. They would not have betrayed me.” She sniffed. “My only regret is that you and I have not been in enough contact throughout the years that you might have known me well respected and cared for.” 

“Forgive me daughter,” he sighed. “But this is not how I envisioned this reunion.” 

“Me neither.” She chuckled. “And although I have noticed that not one of you attempts at apology have been direct. Not one of your reasons a worthy excuse. I’m sure I will forgive you. In time.” She turned her face towards the tent flaps. “But not today.” 

The silence was defining for a minute, before a soft sound came from the doorway and a Northern boy Brienne recognized stuck his head in. 

“Ser? There is a woman out here, a seamstress? She says Ser Jaime sent her?” He gave her a frightened look and Brienne rolled her eyes.”She’s from Dorne?” 

“Of course she is.” Brienne moaned. “Send her in.”

“M’Lady.” The girl nodded. “I work for House Dayne? My Lady sent me for a few measurement?” Each word was a question and Brienne winced. “Your betrothed gave us what he had, but he felt that some may have changed?” 

“Gods he’s sent a Dornish girl to measure my tits.” Brienne muttered to herself before she remembered her father was still there, she let her eyes slip shut. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Lord Selwyn coughed gracefully, Brienne watched him leave.

* * *

Sansa felt Brienne behind her before she settled into the seat beside her. Tyrion held the chair out for her, his hand reaching out and patting his Good Sister’s with his stout fingers. Sansa kissed him on the cheek as he made it to the front of the room before giving Brienne a soft smile and nodding across the room to where Jaime sat at a table parallel to her on the U shaped dias, a lazy half conscious smile on his face. Brienne winced and he winked at her. Arya Stark sat stiff at his side like a statue of a guard, her eyes scanning the room slowly and methodically as Gendry looked vaguely ill beside her. Minor Lords began to stand clustered behind each wardening house. Gilly Tarly, her stomach round with child tried to give her chair to her Good Mother who smiled softly and swept the wildling girl’s hair from her shoulder as she refused. Her Uncle, Edmure Tully, looking far older than the years should make him, was talking softly to his nephew, the Lord of the Vale. Robyn looked shockingly grown and Sansa found herself wondering how her cousin had fared outside the clutch of his mentally unstable mother. The young woman from Dorne that Tyrion said Jaime thought might catch John’s eye sat easily beside Lady Dayne, who looked every bit as perfect as the Princess of Dorne should. Princess Allyria’s head was bowed towards Yara Greyjoy, and Sansa felt the little stab in her chest that she always felt when she remembered how Theon should be at his sisters side. She caressed the Direwolf pin she still had pinned under her cloak of Lannister Red when her husband rang the bell set before him at the head of the table. 

“We all know why we are here today, so we shall not waste time with pretense. We come before this great council of the Seven Kingdoms to call on our people to choose the rightful heir to the throne. The discussion has been long and at times trying.” He narrowed his eyes at the Stormlands and Sansa couldn't help but smile. “Concessions have been offered, and accepted. Truces have been formed and new great houses have emerged. Several of us have been betrayed by our past Kings and Queens and by other regions, some settled here at this very table.” He looked each Noble house in the eye as he moved down each flanking table. “Half of us fought and survived the dead, together, arm and arm, despite differences and family feuds generations in the making.” His eyes settled on his brother and she saw the tears forming there. “In ways that cannot be imagined by any who have not laid eyes upon the army of corpses, we owe you all a debt that can never be repaid.” He tilted his head at Arya and her sister gave a silent nod. “But new peace starts now. A new world, where the good of the Realm must come before the glory of any house, or any region, begins now.”

He took a deep breath and turned to face Jon. Sansa marveled at how suddenly regal her brother looked, his back rod straight and his deep eyes focused outward on the crowd. 

“My Lords and Lady’s I bring forth for a vote King Jon Stark. Son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, nephew of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. Former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and King of the North. He is both the true heir by his birth and the natural successor by his deeds. As your region is called please say you.”

He handed his paper off to Grey Worm, who stood tall before them. 

“Lord Robyn Arryn of The Vale?”

“The Vale knows no King but Stark.” Robyn said quiet conviction, his lip twitching at the corner. A guard behind Tyrion moved the banner of House Arryn behind Jon’s chair. 

  
  


“Lord Gendry Baratheon for the Stomlands?”

“The Stag bends the knee to the Dragon Wolf.” He said simply, his hand laying softly on Arya’s as their flag joined the Vale’s. “We know no King but Stark.’

“Lady Allyra Dayne, Princess of Dorne?”

“Dorne is yours, Your Grace.” She said sweetly, bowing her head to her new monarch. “Long Live King Jon.”

“Lord Samwell Tarly of the Reach?” Grey Worm turned towards Sam who glanced and Gilly before smiling up at his mother. 

“The Reach and House Highgarden humbly know no King but our dear friend Jon Stark.” He grinned a bit uneasily at his old sworn brother, who tilted his head towards him. The archer’s banner made it’s way to beside the banner of Dorne.

“Lord Edmure Tully of The Riverlands?” 

“The Riverlands belong to King Jon. Long may he reign.” Edmure said softly, swallowing hard and looking at his niece as he did. She looked back with kind eyes. Another flag moved over. 

“Lady Yara Greyjoy of The Iron Isle?”

“Ironborn serve at the will of their one true King, Jon Stark.” She said loudly, her voice ringing through the silent room. Sansa’s heart pinged again as an unsullied pulled their flag and a Kraken once again moved to back up a Stark. 

“Lord Jaime Lannister of Westerlands?” Sansa pressed her fingers into Brienne’s hand. 

“The Westerlands bend the knee to King Jon.” He looked to his brother. “The full force of the Rock is behind him.” 

“Lady Sansa Stark of the North?”

“The North knows no King but King Jon.” Sansa said crisply, above the low rumble of ‘here-here’s’ behind her. The Lion and the Wolf took their places next to the Kraken. 

Tyrion looked behind him, at the banners behind Jon, a slow smile spread across his mouth as he nodded to Grey Worm. 

“All Hail King Jon. First of his name.” The Unsullied Commander called, his voice firm and resolute. 

“All Hail The Dragon Wolf. King of the Seven Kingdoms!” Arya chirped, others joining in. Jon sat rigid straight for a second, the reality of the moment dawning on him. Sansa watched it wash over his features, the typical frown furrowing deeper, before his eyes slowly drifted around the tables. He took in each face as the calls became louder. His eyes landed slowly on Jaime his eyebrows creased in pain a the noise as he met Jon’s fearful gaze. 

Lannister stilled, his eyes becoming clear, he squared his shoulders and gave Jon a quick nod and a reassuring smile. Sansa watched the fear slip from his brothers face as he nodded back. Jon turned towards Samwell Tarly who has bowing before him cheekily. 

Jaime’s body deflated and he pressed himself back into his chair. Arya turned him quickly and Hawly bent over only to be waved away by his patient. 

“I need to get him out of here.” Brienne murmured. 

“You need to stay.” Tyrion whispered. “Let Hawly take care of Jaime. You need to be here as Lady of the Rock.” 

“I..” Hawly was over him again for a second before Arya looked around for an exit. “I need-.”

“Look at me.” Tyrion whispered softly as Sansa clutched her hand. “You can’t both be gone. People will talk. You are the Lady of Casterly Rock. You have to stay here. Jaime would tell you the same thing. It’s alright, he’ll be alright. It’s the noise.” 

“Brienne.” Sansa said easily, pushing a sweet smile onto her face. “I would love to introduce you to my cousin Lord Robyn. Please come with me.” She had been training for this since childhood, as much as Brienne had been training in the yard. Her good sister looked at her with mild panic. 

“I’m not ready to do this without Jaime. I don’t know how to-.”

“You will come with me.” She lifted her chin. “Meet my cousin. My Uncle. I’ll introduce you to Yara. You’ll hate her.” She smirked mirthfully. Brienne cast a look back to where Jaime had been, but he was already gone. 

Addam Marbrand was suddenly at her elbow. 

“My Lady.”

“Ser Addam.” She looked up worriedly. 

“Your Lord Husband has asked that I stay close to your side as you naviagate the Westerners.” He grinned. 

“Is he well?” She breathed.

“As well as he ever is.” The soon to be appointed Lord Commander shrugged. “He told you he’d see you back in your rooms.”

“How long?” She asked Sansa ruefully. 

“An hour? Tops.” She looked at Addam who nodded slowly. Sansa quickly scanned the room for own husband, finding him standing on a chair near Jon, his hand cuffed in front of the Kings ear, talking to him softly. 

“And hour.” Brienne moaned. 

“Come Ser Addam I was just about to introduce Lady Lannister to the Lord of the Vale.” She smiled, pulling as Addam pressed. 

* * *

And hour later, Brienne found herself in the doorway of her bedchamber, looking at the crumpled figure on the bed, his formal attire unfastened and hanging loose at his chest. A skin of boiled water across his battered face, Hawly had propped his legs up on a stack of wool blankets and the room smelled of mint and a faint medicinal smell that was almost pine. 

She stood statue still as one of his eyes slit open and he took her in. 

“Hi.” He croaked. “Seems we’ve united a kingdom.”

She tried to smile at him, but her face fell immediatly and she sucked in air to try to keep the tears at bay.

“No.” He cooed softly, his stumped arm reaching out towards her from the bed. “No Darling, it’s alright. Come here. Come here.” She crossed the room and he used his elbow to sweep her towards him. Brienne curled into his side careful not to jostle him. Her tears breaking into sobs. “It’s alright. I’ll be alright. We’ve done it. We’ve won. Don’t cry, Sweetling.”

“I hate this whole stupid kingdom. I hate everything. I-.” Her words rasped out of her lips before he pressed his against them; shushing and cooing to her softly. “No one understands. No one gets what we’ve been through, no one cares..”

“Shh… Brienne.”

“I could have lost you.”

“I’m here.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, her temple. “You didn’t. I’m here.”

“I-.” She pressed into his shoulder, her tears soaking the tunic under her face. Her hand cupping the small curve of their babe in her womb. “Jaime.. I can’t loose you.” Suddenly all she could see was their leavings, all of their goodbyes. All the near misses and the near death experiences that had almost robbed them of this. She saw a dozen different lives, all without Jaime Lannister and none of them made any sense. “Stay with me.”

“I’m here.” He reminded her. “I’m here. Shh.. It’s over. It’s over. I’m so sorry, Brienne.”

“I need you to stay.” She sobbed. 

“Forever.” He kissed her again. “I’m here. I’ll stay. I’ll swear it. It’s alright. We’re alright.”

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then they wed.

**Tryna talk, but we can't hear ourselves**

* * *

It was a weird sensation, for Jaime Lannister to stand in a crowded room full of laughing dancing people and only hear the most muffled of murmurs. The wax plugs that Samwell had given him for his ears made everything seem far away, underwater even. He quite liked the feeling in a way. Beside him, his wife to be stood stiff; her eyes moving about the room intently, fingers gripping the hilt of her sword. He reached for her, carefully tracing over her knuckles before dislodging them from Oathkeeper. She jumped a little, and he brought them to his mouth and pressed his lips against them. 

“Darling do try and relax.” He sighed, hearing the sound of his own voice echo about his head.. “Despite recent history, coronations are a rare event.You should enjoy it.” 

She tilted her head and a slim blonde eyebrow lifted over a blue orb.

He snorted a little, the sound loud, and menacing to his own ears. He clicked his jaw to relieve the pressure. 

He had not done well at the earlier coronation ceremony. His minds eye had overlapped the many he’d seen in the last two decades. Robert, Joffery, Tommen, and bending and swirling until all he could see was Cersei, crowning herself in this very room. His memories warped and twisted into a waking nightmare until his twin was climbing over the bodies of the aforementioned kings like stairs to receive her crown. He’d swayed, just enough and Brienne’s hand settled between his shoulder blades like a rope to a drowning man. All at once the memory of killing her had dropped back into his mind as if he’d never seen it before. She’d steadied him there, as his hand had groped for hers, tangling their fingers and trying to keep his face passive as the new High Septon had announced King Jon first of his name. _Long may he reign._

“ _Let them go._ ” Jaime had whispered inside his own head as the wax drown out the roar of cheers that rose in the room. “ _Let them all go._ ” 

Her look now says it all, he doesn’t need to read her lips to know what she’s saying. 

“Yes, you seemed to enjoy it so earlier.” She let her eyes roll up before turning back to the crowd. 

“ _Old Ghosts,_ Ser. This damn room was full of old ghosts.”

“Do you think it to early to take our leave?” She sighed as he strained to hear her, her back rod straight as her hand unconsciously drifts back towards her sword as he lets her go. 

He watched her for a second as he eyes drift around the room. He thought insanely for a moment about asking her to dance. He could see the band playing, even if he can’t really hear it. Around him people were politely dancing and it occured to him that he wanted to dance with her. In fact he was suddenly irritated that Renly Baratheon had danced with her and he hadn’t.

“What?” Her mouth questioned as her eyes took in his face. 

Tomorrow he’ll stand in the Royal Sept and wait for her and they’ll say the words and then he can spend the rest of his life making her dance with him, blushing and heaving heavy sighs all the while.. 

He took her hand back and presses her palm against his cheek and she turned her body towards him with a worried scowl. He smiled at her. 

“I think all things considered, we can take our leave.” He pressed his lips into her palm before folding his hand in hers and pulling her towards their new king.

  
  


* * *

Brienne watched him pull the tiny string on the wax ear molds and drop them onto the table, flexing his jaw and grimacing like a child. Her body dropped to the edge of the bed rubbing at her shoulders when she heard him swallow a gasp. Her eyes flipped to his face and she studied him.

His gaze was on the table and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth for a just a second before letting out a slow breath. She followed his line of sight until she saw what he saw, Widow’s Wail, set carefully on the the table. It was pulled back from the sheath enough that it gleamed where the light hits the blade. Jaime approached it slowly, like it may have risen from the table on it’s own and slash at him, like it was a snake to be charmed. His fingers touched it’s hilt reverently for a second before he pulled his hand away and let his eyes shut. 

“Did you-?” His raw voices scratched out of his dry throat, sounding so loud in the quiet room. She rose then, her fingers grasping his arm just above the elbow as she shook her head. She hasn’t asked about the sword since the moment she learned he’d pushed it through his sisters chest. She’s wanted to, just as she wanted to touch it now. Her swords twin, it’s other half, her heart full of years of what that meant to her when he wasn’t close enough to touch. Her other hand slid to Oathkeepers hilt instead, her fingers, sliding over the well mapped divots in the lions mane. “Maybe Pod.” 

“Maybe.” She agreed finally, her voice soft as she pressed her chin down until it was set on his shoulder. “He probably thought you’d want it, for tomorrow.” 

He swallowed, his chin barely bobbing with a nod. 

“Jaime you don’t have to-.” She pulled back slightly to see his face.

“No.” He stopped her, his eyebrows raising. “I.. I do want it. I just..” Brienne pressed a kiss to his temple and he leaned into her lips. 

“Jaime.” She soothed.

“We shouldn’t-.” He quickly swallowed a few times before struggling to keep his voice steady. “Tomorrow is our wedding day, we shouldn’t-.” He coughed uncomfortably and she brought her hand up to hold his head to her lips, her fingers carding his graying hair. “We shouldn’t-.” 

“Shh…” She murmured against his cheek. He pressed his weight onto the table on his right forearm before allowing his fingers to wrap around the scabbard, roughly pulling it towards the edge of the table. She knows his legs are about to buckle before he does and she grasps his hips to her and bends with him. Until they are both kneeling before the table and his forehead is pressed into the scabbard. She drops back onto the floor and folds her legs around him and holds him as he sobs. 

* * *

“I never gave a second thought to the sword I used to kill Areys.” He told her softly. “Some insignificant piece of steal I’m sure; standard issue Kings Guard garbage.” 

He’d finally released the sword itself, now nestled with it’s twin leaning on the rack as they lay face to face on the bed, his hand brushing through her hair, as she held the flat side of his stump against the small rise of her abdomen. 

“I guess the least I could do is rename it.” He glanced at it again, then back at her.

“No.” She announced with more certainty than she should and his eyebrows rise again. 

“Really? I think you of all people-.” He winced. “It’s an awful name.”

“Depends on how you think of it.” She whispered back at him. 

“Joffery saw it as some fantasy, slaying his enemies, taking delight in the cries of their loved ones.” Jaime grunted. “The foolish boy had never so much as nicked someone with a tourney sword.”.

“Exactly.” Brienne touched his face. “He didn’t know battle. He didn’t know the heavy weight of taking another's life. Of imagining their widows wail. I want you to remember that, Jaime. That life is precious. I want you to think of Lady Catelyn’s horror after loosing her husband, of your father’s decent after the loss of your mother. Every time you are to raise that sword, I want you to think of me and know you have to survive; to come back to me.” 

He pressed his lips to hers as quickly as he could and she whimpered in surprise. 

“I will always come back to you.” He breathed against her cheek. 

* * *

Brienne touched the gold embroidery of her wedding gown, the soft silk tickling the tips of her fingers. It was clearly Dornish, but there was no plunging neckline, or high slit along her thigh. Just billows of liquid like cream that flowed with her body as she moved and tiny intricate beading in slate gray and spun gold. It hid her bump but managed to cling to her hip as she walked. Sansa had rolled her hair with rags before pouring a pitcher of warm water over it. Once it had dried she carefully removed and oiled each curl until The lay in soft waves along the frame of her face. Gilly had carefully twisted her hips so she could press her pregnant body as close to Brienne as she could to apply creams and powders to her face. Brienne smiled as her protruding belly brushed against her arm and the girl gave her a conspiratorial look. 

She and Sam had been the only ones besides her father that knew, until Arya had been helping her maneuver her scabbard at her waist and her eyes had shot to Brienne with sudden shock. 

The older woman had just raised an eyebrow until the girl smirked in return. 

The dress and all it’s anxiety producing glory is worth it when Jaime Lannister saw his bride. Brienne knew she’ll never feel as beautiful as she did in the royal Sept that day when his face went blank and his jaw slack as she made her way to him on Jon’s arm. His hand shook when she took it in hers as the Septon bound his stump to her other with a ribbon as red as the Lannister cloak he draped across her shoulders. The crimson laid dramatically against the cream, the matching gold embroidery laying seamless, making it impossible to separate it from the original dress. There was no before or after, only one. Large gold lion head clasps form around sapphires and she couldn’t help but wonder who had been that thorough, but any wonder is driven from her mind when her husband’s hand finished the last clasp. a Weirwood face, a nod to House Stark and she suddenly knew who the dresses architect had been. She glanced at Sansa who smirked back at her, but her attention was quickly drawn back to Jaime, who drew his thumb up the curve of her abdomen and met her eyes with his. 

When she said she is his, she had never meant anything more truly in her life and she thanked the Gods for the three botched matches and that no one else in the world, sans Tormund the Giantsbane, had wanted her but Jaime Lannister.

The crowd applauded when they announced at the feast, and Jaime didn't even wince at the noise. Brienne faltered for a moment when he asked her to dance. 

“I know you can.” He whispered and she couldn't deny him as he unbuckled their scabbards and handed off their swords to Pod. So they danced, and she felt impossibly dainty and lady like in the sea of cream silk and red velvet. He mumbled to her something about finally besting Renly and she couldn't help but snort with laughter at the idea. 

“Is that what this is about?” She laughed into his ear and he held her closer. “Getting one over on my dead, man-loving, maiden fantasy?” 

“Maybe.” He grinned like an idiot against her cheek.

“You sound quiet jealous.” She sighed, closing her eyes and laying her temple against the side of his face. He clasped her fingers in his and pressed a kiss at the bend of her neck. 

“I do, don’t I?” He played along and she hummed.

“I’m yours and you are mine.” She reminded him, pulling back to arch an eyebrow. “You’ve bed me and now you’ve wed me and I’m already with your child, Ser. What more exactly do you need?”

He swallowed hard then, his eyes brimming as he stops dancing and looks at her. 

“Nothing.” He told her. “Nothing more than this. Ever.”

And she smiled. 

  
  
  
  



	13. But now I think that we should stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys I thought this chapter was the beginning of the end, but I may have accidentally started a sequel, it’s not my fault, I’m quarantined Day 5.  
> Here’s hoping I get the all clear to go back to work tomorrow.  
> (I’m a nurse, the rest of you should stay home.) If any of you follow me on FF.net you know I’m notorious for graphic and nutty birth scenes. This one is mild. It’s inspired from a fic someone wrote about a grieving Brienne being stubborn and modest and wanting to deliver her baby alone. I don’t remember what fic it was. If you do post it in the comments. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head.  
> I didn’t mean to start a sequel..  
> Please comment I’m lonely. Lol. 
> 
> Any way... dark wings dark words my friends!
> 
> Picture it, Westeros.. 5 years later....

**But now I think that we should stay**

Epilogue part one.

(Five years Later)

  
  


Jaime looked out over the little village, carefully eyeing each man as they worked. The section was almost finished. They’d done a phenomenal job, he had to admit that. It was a pleasant surprise, he hadn’t been sure of this grouping, they were unruly and uncultured. The spit dirty japes at each other as the cobbled together their section of King’s Landing, molding rubble into homes and storefronts. 

The leader that had been chosen, and man named Girth, was missing most of his teeth, but Bronn had assured him he was the best they had, and the men followed him. He watched carefully as Jon spoke to the man. He nodded along, his toothless smile was almost endearing. He glanced at Addam who smirked at him over the King’s shoulder. 

“Reconsidering your departure my Lord Hand?” He teased as Girth and Jon took a few steps down to admire one of the stonemason’s work. 

“No.” Jaime snorted.

“Just think. This could be your last week.” He raised an eyebrow.

“If the Gods are fair.” Jaime grunted. 

“Lord Hand?” Jaime turned to look behind him as a young page scrambled over bit’s of stone and wood. His eyes rolled back into his head. “I’ve been sent to fetch you at once.”

“Now?” He moaned.

“Yes Ser. Lady Tarly says to hurry, Ser.” 

“Of course she does.” Jaime grumbled as Adam swatted him on the chest. He mounted his horse in one swift leap. 

“Good Luck.” Adam called, before turning back out towards the workers. 

...

Samwell Tarly met him at the door of the Tower of the Hand, wringing his wrists together. 

“She won’t let anyone in.” He huffed. “The Queen made an attempt and she  _ threw _ something at the door.” Jaime snorted taking the steps two at a time. “Gilly convinced her to keep the door ajar at least until you arrived.” The stairs turned and he saw the man’s red face looking up at him from the bottom of the stairwell 

“Thank you Maester Tarly.” Jaime’s clipped tone echoed off the stone. 

“Took you long enough.” The Lady of Highgarden scolded, dropping her knitting onto her lap. 

“Where are my children?” He asked, pulling off his leather jacket as he crossed the room. 

“With Sam and Olenna, I’ll keep them for the night.”. 

“Thank you Lady Tarly.” He murmured as he made his way through the door. 

“Call if you need anything!” She called back. 

His wife was kneeling on the bed, one hand braced against the headboard and the other between her slightly parted legs her shift gathered over her thighs. 

“You crazy insufferable-.” He growled crossing the room and pressing his front to her back. Her arm snaked around his neck, her hand squeezing at the nape as he pulled her body to lean against his. She panted out a breath and swallowed hard.

“Where were you, in Dorne?!” She accused, her fingers scraping rhythmically against his skin. He felt her knees shake. 

“You should have sent for me sooner.” He hissed. 

“I didn’t think it would- oh-.” Her body became heavy against him and he shore it up with his own. “Go this quickly.” She ground out. 

“How quickly?” He moved his hand down to the side of her abdomen and swore. “Are you pushing?” 

“I’m trying not to.” She panted. “I can’t feel anything yet.” She moaned slightly. “I don’t think-.” Her words disappeared into a grunt and Jaime fought to hold her up as her body pressed down. 

“Don’t try and control it.” He whispered in her ear. “Just do what your body tells you to do.” She nodded at him before sucking in another breath and pushing with a long groan. “That’s it. Just like that.” 

It wasn’t much longer before her movements became more frantic and he wrapped his right forearm beneath her breasts and slid his hand down between her thighs, he could feel the baby’s head bulging there. He bit his lip firmly to keep from attempting to coax her to move into a more manageable position.

He’d made that mistake last time with Arthur’s birth and she’d screeched she was sorry this was so uncomfortable for _him_. He’d yelled back that she was the one who insisted on doing this alone in their chambers without the perfectly qualified midwife. (Who had been waiting on the other side of the door that time as well.) She’d burst into tears and he’d muttered flustered apologies to her until things had gotten too serious for either of them to say much. 

It was Lyanna’s birth that had started the whole ‘no Maester’s or Midwife’s’ thing in the first place. He’d spent the whole hour prior telling her that it was past time to call for help. However; she’d insisted, right up until their daughter had practically slid across the silk duvet, that they had plenty of time. 

None of this would have happened at all if she’d just left the Hall of Learning when he’d asked her to, the first time she’d labored with Joanna. He’d known that it had started before she was willing to admit it. Jaime was certain she wouldn’t have developed her hatred of assisted childbirth if she’d not been put on display for Gilly’s class of future midwives. All as Sarella Martell, the Maester and future queen herself, gave them detailed information over the wildling woman’s shoulder as Brienne birthed their first babe. 

“It’s-.” His wife yelped urgently. 

“I know I’ve got it. I’ve got it. Push.” He used his gentlest voice, trying to remind himself to stay calm. He’d taken Gilly’s class three times he recalled to himself, as his fingers pressed with careful firmness around the infant's head as it slipped free. She pitched forward against the headboard again and he moved around to the side and rubbed at the baby until it squealed. 

“Well?” She panted, her head pressed against the cool dark walnut. 

“A boy.” He sighed with a smile as the baby wailed. “Another boy.” 

“Can I come in now?” Gilly Tarly asked cautiously from the door. It was only then that Jaime saw his wife’s boot and a gold goblet on the floor where they had been tossed. He chuckled and looked at Brienne who nodded. 

“All clear.” Jaime said softly, 

“Well done.” Gilly said over his shoulder looking at the babe. Jaime smiled up at her.

  
  


………………………

  
  


“Lord Hand.” Jon called as Jaime sauntered into the council room the next morning smirk still on his face. 

“Your Grace.” Jaime called back. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Maester Tarly tells me that the Queen was threatened with a boot yesterday in my own castle.” He told him with mock severity. 

“I will get to the bottom of that right away, My King.” He snickered. “But the Lady Tarly herself got the worst of it when a goblet nearly knocked her skull.”

“Well?” Jon asked him expectantly. 

“A boy. Mother and child are both in good health. We’ve named him for you.” Jaime said in one long exhale. 

Jon blinked at him. 

“For me?” He mumbled back. 

“Yes, Your Highness.” He squinted. The young man looked oddly touched. “You must know he’s not the first baby Jon in Kings Landing and I’m sure he won’t be the last.”

“Yes but he’s the first one from someone who actually knows me.” He murmured somewhat softly. “I’m.. honored…. Ser Jaime.” 

“The honor is all ours, Your Grace.” He whispered back. “As soon as you’d like we’ll present him to you, but if there is nothing pressing I’d like to collect the children and get ravens off to Winterfell and Tarth.”

“I’ll.. “ He swallowed again. “I’ll gladly write to our Northern family and Lord Selwyn. You.. you should collect your cubs, show them the latest member of the pride.”

Jaime gave a quick nod before clapping the boy on the shoulder and hurrying off. 

………….

“Soft touches Lyanna.” Jaime whispered as he arched the two year old’s fingers back to keep her from clawing her new brother’s face off. 

He’d learned that the hard way, he was pretty sure Arthur still had the scars from Jo’s sharp ‘pats’ of sisterly love. 

Joanna sat motionless as a statue now, the tiny baby perched on her four year old lap. Podrick was forcefully restraining at squirming one year old as Arthur protested incessantly, his tiny legs kicking out towards his father. 

“He gets that from you.” Brienne told him drolly as he handed her Lyanna and pulled Aurthur from Pod.

“So.” He exhales quickly. “I’ll get the children back to their nurse, and we can present the baby to Jon. I’ll take a few moments to talk to Allyria to see if there is anything else I can help her with before we finalize plans to set off within a fortnight.”

“Jaime we don’t have to rush you know.” She teased, something in Jaime had been disagreeing with that for days. A steady hum of faint expedience told him that he had to get to the Rock as soon as possible. 

“We’ve already delayed the trip twice.” He raised an eyebrow at her accusingly. 

“Only the first thing was my fault.” She huffed.

She’d stayed behind to finish her last group of squire training, finding a particular pupil too difficult to leave. Jaime had arranged for the girl to accompany them to the Rock and he had to press his lips together to keep from telling his wife that surprise that second. If for no other reason then to hurry their departure along. 

“The second thing..” She looked at him accusingly, her eyebrow arching as she looked between him and the babe. 

“If we hadn't had to stay behind the first time there would have been plenty of time to get to the rock before the-.” He gestured at their newborn son. “-second thing.”

“Lord Hand!” A crisp call from the outer room made Joanna jump, jostling Jon who started to wail. In a moment of seconds all four of the Lannister children were crying.

“Gods.” Jaime muttered, pulling Arthur tight to his chest while Pod quickly collected the newborn from his oldest, Brienne was shushing the girls when Tarly and Bronn burst through the doors. “This better be good.”

“A raven from Tyrion.” The master of whispers grunted, unrolling the scroll so that he could read it. His brother's thick methodical handwriting crossed the page in large clear strokes.

**_Dark Wings Dark Words._ **

“Shit.” Jaime barked. 

“Shit!” Lyanna echoed happily behind him, her tears still drying on her face as she clapped her pudgy hands together. 

“Who’s with the King?” He looked towards Brienne before setting their son on her already crowded lap. 

“The Lord Commander.” Tarly informed him.

“Thank God.” He sighed deeply. “Call the Gold Cloaks. Find Redford, get him updated then convinen the small council.”

“Jaime what’s happened? Brienne asked over Arthur’s fussing. 

“I have to go.” He turned to her, leaning down and dropping his kiss to each blonde head. “I’ll explain later.” He looked at Ser Podrick. “Stay with them?”

“Of course.” He nodded, his face scrunched in worry. 

“Shit. Shit.” He murmured to himself as he ran around collecting his outer layer and scabbard. 

“Shit!” Lyanna yelled triumphantly from the bed. 

“Add to the Queen’s Guard. Double it. Make sure she’s out of site.” 

“Jaime!” Brienne yelled after him. He turned in the doorway and looked at her pleading eyes. 

“The Dragon.” He exhaled slowly. “Tyrion’s warning us they’ve seen the Dragon.” 

…………..

“So this is still step one right? I mean step two was-. Fuck I can’t remember step two!” Redford muttered. “Maybe we should have reviewed the plan more regularly?”

“Great insight Ser! Tarly, add it to the notes for Lady Allayria.” Jaime growled. “Step two is Gendry Baratheon.” He reminded him, as he rushed into the small council room. “He’s to receive a letter that if intercepted would look like family correspondence.” He reminded them, his feet clapping across the stone floor. “If anything further is needed it will come from Tarth.” 

“Right.” The Master of War sighed heavily. “Right.”

“You’ve manned the scorpions?” Bronn grumbled, as they moved into the room. 

“The-.” He looked at the Master of Whispers. 

“The scorpions. We usually only keep a fifth of them manned and only facing East. I suggest you fucking fully arm them. Have the men check them over, since you know they are the only thing that can stop a fucking dragon.”

“Yes. The-.” 

“Warrior save us.” Jaime muttered looking up to see Jon, Davos and Addam standing at the table. “Addam get Ser Grey on the scorpions make sure-.”

“Done.” Addam yelled back. “He left as soon as we got word.”

“Good man.” Jaime whispered. 

“Lord Hand I’m-“ Mychel Redford gulped, rubbing his hand across his face.

“It’s alright.” Jaime told him calmly, clamping his hand down on the younger mans arm. “We’ve done this before, that’s all it is. Stay close to Addam and Grey Worm. They’ll get you through it.” 

Redford nodded back at him before taking the seat Addam pulled out beside himself. 

Jaime looked up to see a wide eyed Allyria Dayne blinking at him. 

“Oh I know that look.” He growled, gesturing for her to sit beside him. “That is a look of someone reconsidering her life choices.” 

“You can’t seriously believe me-.” She started quickly. 

“It’s alright Lady Dayne, I’m right here beside you.” He sighed heavily. 

“You really thought you could leave me didn’t you?” Jon muttered, Jaime sniffed. 

“I knew we should have left the second the cord was severed.” He sighed. 

“Why now?” Jon looked at him. “It’s been over five years.” 

“We have little time for why.” Jaime said softly, as Yara Greyjoy entered the room with a grim line across her lips. “We need to know where.”

“I don’t know where, but both Tarth and Storms End have their scorpions mounted and armed. Some of our ships noted it just this morning. The Baratheon flagship set off early. It should arrive by sundown. 

“Seems Arya got the faster raven.” Jon sighed. 

“We need to get word to the West.” Redford nodded. 

“I’m sure Tyrion and Sansa wrote the Rock and the Vale as well.” Jaime nodded. “But we should make sure they, and Highgarden have taken appropriate measures.”

“Is there a ship we can dispatch to Dorne?” Allyria asked Yara. “A raven is all well and good but Edric is young and inexperienced. I’d feel more comfortable if someone were able to be there with him and Elia.”

Jon huffed and looked at Jaime who squared his shoulders stiffly before nodding at him. 

“Sarella and Robb will return to Dorne.” He told them. “The Queen will provide your young nephew counsel.” 

The room was silent for a second, Jaime’s future replacement looked at her with her deep brown eyes as if to ask if he was sure. Jaime gave a quick nod. 

“I’ll take the Queen and Prince myself.” Yara told Jon somberly. 

“Ser Ballon would be my choice to go along with them, Your Grace.” Addam told him softly. 

“What of your pride?” Jon said to Jaime, who swallowed heavily. “Where should they sit this out?”

_The Rock._ He wanted to spit at him. _I would them be safe and sound at the Rock!_ He knew it was ridiculous. She’d already taken the Rock once. She could easily take it again, despite the rows of scorpions that had lined the cliff sides for the past five years. 

“Let me.” Jaime swallowed. “Discuss it with Brienne.” 

“Sansa is to take Cat and Ricken to Bear Island? That is the plan there?” Jon reiterated, his mind shifting to his sisters. Jaime nodded. “I would assume that’s too far? Maybe Highgarden?” 

Jaime looked at Tarly who was nodding enthusiastically. He smiled at him, but he already knew his wife would never run from a fight. 

“We’ll ship the Lannisters off to the Twins.” Bronn said quickly. “She wouldn’t look for them there. No reason to go after me. I’m no one. My guess is your wife and newest squaller will be staying here anyway?” 

Jaime gave a quick nod. 

“Alright then.” Jon sighed. “Master Redford? I will need a full report of our forces in about an hour. Ser Davos, I’m going to need to know how much of this we can afford. Yara, I need to know where the fleets are and how we can get them where they’ll be of best use. Bronn, get me something on Dragonstone. That’s.. I’m sure that’s where she’ll-.” He swallowed hard. 

“Yes Your Grace.” He nodded.

“Sam, we need to start thinking of what to tell the city. They’ll need warning, any siting of Drogon will cause panic. They’ll need a plan. Instructions. Things to do.” Tarly nodded. “And make sure all our families are accounted for. I don’t want anyone thought to be on the possible list of revenge left behind. I’ll see you all in an hour.”

...

“You’re not still going to leave me are you?” Jon asked, his head lazily leaned back against the back of his chair, one hand rubbing at his forehead. 

“Well, not now for Sevens sake.” Jaime murmured, bringing the wine to his lips. 

“Brienne shouldn’t stay here.” The King huffed. “Sansa, Tyrion, Arya, you and I. That’s who she’ll be coming for.”

“Add me to the list?” Grey Worm’s voice cut into the quiet of the room as he stealthily crossed the floor. “She will see me as a traitor.”

“She gave you free will, Ser Grey” Jon reminded him. “She has no right to hold grudges at how you chose to use it.”

“One may argue.” He said softly, before turning to Jaime. “The scorpions are up and at 100%. We’ve increased troops at the ports, and closed the gates to the city. Dunkstendale has been set up as an outpost. I put seventy men there.” 

  
  


Jaime nodded in approval as he examined the Commander of the Gold Cloaks carefully. Taking in his rod straight posture and the way he still cupped his hands in front of him. They’d come to trust him, even like him, over the years. Bran Stark had vouged for him. Tyrion had championed his appointment. Jaime wasn’t sure at the time, but he’d grown to respect him. Did he still? He asked himself before the surprising answer popped into his head. (A jarring yes.) It was the follow up question he couldn’t reconcile, would he allow the man to protect his family from the Dragon Queen? (A quick no.) He made a mental note to talk to both Allyria and Addam about that, just in case.

“Maybe it’s not revenge she’s after.” Jon sighed hopefully. 

“Maybe?” Jaime sneered. “Should the Queen host her for tea? Ask her over lemon cakes?”

“Don’t be..” Jon huffed. “You.”

“You sound like my wife.” Jaime snorted. Jon leaned back again eyeing Jaime from between spread fingers. 

“Speaking of. You should probably get that over with.”

He blew air from between his lips slowly before nodding.

“Yes. ‘ _Please Dear, just get in the damn wheelhouse and run away to Highgarden with Lady Tarly to make sure our children don’t have to witness their father being cooked._ ’” He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t wait to have that chat.” 

“We shouldn’t let her near.” Grey Worm said softly. “We should take the dragon down on site.” 

Jon and Jaime both stopped to stare at him. 

“We have come too far to lose it all now.” He told them quietly. “Done too much good.”

“We..” Jon looked at his Hand with a gulp. “I-.”

“We need to keep all options on the table.” Jaime breathed softly. “We have yours Commander Grey Worm.” 


	14. When we walked in, I said I’m sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look for the sequel to this story  
> ‘In The Middle of the Darkness’  
> It will be out sometime this quarantine. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this little fix it of mine.  
> It’s been a pleasure. 
> 
> The titles of this story are from the song  
> “I don’t care” by Ed Sheeran because it reminded me of them.

**When We Walked In, I Said I’m Sorry.**

**Epilogue Part Two**

  
  


Gendry Bartheon charged into the Red Keep with a scroll in his hand about two hours after sundown. 

“We’re in trouble.” He yelled. 

“I’m aware of Lord Baratheon.” Jon hissed. “Where are my sister and nephew?” 

“We sent Ned to Griffin's Roost. Arya is on the battlements talking to the Lord Commander.” 

“Let me have it.” Jaime gestured, grasping his one hand out towards the letter from his brother. 

“I’ve underlined.” He told him softly.

“Wonderful thank you.” He murmured reading it to himself before swallowing hard. 

* * *

_ Dear Goodbrother.  _

_I hope that our letter finds you home and well. It has quite frequently fallen to me to keep our correspondence un destroyed. Of course Lady Sansa sends her love and yes our lovely children are happy to follow._

_Per the usual plan, (we don’t say NO) we will surly contact you soon. I just need to attack so much now!_

_I’m, as always, sailing along so glad to be away from KingsLanding! I hope to be more useful here._

_Careful and do not get too comfortable! That’s a curse. Oh to be lazy as Jaime._

_Tyrion Stark_

_Warden of the North_

  
  


_Ps. If you see my brother congratulate him on the birth of his fourth child._

* * *

  
  


He turned to look at Jon, his shoulders sagging. 

“Well? What did they see? Where was she spotted? Did they speak with her?” Jon rattled off questions quickly, noticing how Gendry had looked away. “What happened?”

“We should speak priva-.”

“Jaime! What happened?” He slapped his hand on the top of the oak table in front of him. Lannister pulled himself up to full height, squaring his shoulders. 

“Winterfell has fallen, Your Grace.” He told him steadily, his green eyes steely and focused on his. 

“Sansa.” He breathed. 

“Away as planned, with the children. Tyrion is heading to us by boat. No mention of Lord Bran.” He told him quickly. 

“Read it to me.” The King whispered. 

**_“Our home has fallen. Keep destroyed. Sansa and children follow plan. No contact. Just attack. I’m sailing to Kings Landing. Be Careful, get to Jaime.”_** Lannister recited, his hand shaking slightly as he held the paper. 

“She could be here by tomorrow.” Jon shook his head. “She could…”

He trailed off, looking slowly around the room. Everyone started to talk at once around them. Jaime looked from Jon back to the letter, his eyes skimming across the postscript. He thought of his children. He hadn’t had a moment to really look at his new son. He probably couldn’t pick him out of a crib of newborns. He swallowed hard and looked back up.

“Strategic.” Jaime yelled above the crowd. “We have to be strategic.”

Everyone silenced and he slowly met each of their eyes.

“We have a plan.” He nodded. “Let’s follow it.” 

………………………………...

_ “I could order her.” Jon had said suddenly, staring at his hands on his lap.  _

_ “What?” Jaime had squinted.  _

_ “I could order her to the Twins.” He had lifted his face. “I’m her King.” _

It had seemed such a simple solution but now Jaime shifted with increasing distress until the door opened and Pod led his family into the room. Lyanna let go of the Knight’s hand and her feet slapped across the floor to her father. Jaime pulled her into his arms and kissed her curly head. Brienne’s worried eyes met his, and he tried to smile for her.

“What do we know?” She whispered softly. “Has Sansa arrived on Bear Island? When will we know?”

“We won’t” Jaime breathed, reaching over and pulling the blanket away from Jon’s face. He studied it carefully, trying to remember each curve. “Not for a while. She’s not to send word. It’s too dangerous.” 

“Who’s with her?” Brienne scrapped at her lip with her teeth. “Who did they send?” 

“I don’t know.” Jaime told her softly, leaning up and pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“Jaime.” She huffed impatiently. 

“Brienne.” He smiled sadly at her. Jaime heard Jon stand behind him. 

“Let’s do this then.” The King said softly. “Properly.”

His wife’s glassy eyes shot to Jon and she pressed her shoulders back with a nod. Jaime turned, setting Lyanna on the floor carefully. Joanna reached for her little sister. 

“That’s it. Hold Jojo’s hand.” He whispered, kissing his oldest on the cheek. “Good girl.” He pulled up, looking at Arthur sleeping in Pod’s grip before smiling at him as well. He reached to grasp the baby from his wife, his eyes scanning him as his finger rolled back from his forehead to his crown. He stopped and pressed his face close, sighing deeply. Brienne’s warm hand lay on his back as he turned to the boy he’d help make King. He cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Your Grace, May I present to you my second born son. Jon Lannister of Casterly Rock.” Jon reached his arms back out for the boy, taking his small head in his hands and gazing into his curious blue eyes. 

“A fine cub.” Jon swallowed. “The realm is here to serve and protect you, Young Jon, until the time comes for you to serve and protect us.” 

Jaime Lannister had heard him say the words more times than he could remember, three times with his own brood. It sounded different today. He met Jon’s eyes and nodded firmly.

He handed him back to Jaime who pulled him into his chest.

“In that vein.” He looked at Brienne and Jaime took her hand in his. ”Ser Brienne, you have served us well as Master of Arms. I was sad to lose you. Even more so now.” He turned away, his kingly persona masking the softer parts of the man, just like Jaime had taught him. 

“Your Grace, I am willing to stay on-.” He pivoted before meeting her eyes. 

“I’m ordering you and your children from Kings Landing. You will travel to the Twins until there is such a time it is safe for you to return to Casterly Rock.” 

“Your Grace?” Her face registered what he had said as if it was being spelled out behind her eyes. Jaime felt her arm stiffen. 

“Ser Podrick will accompany you.” He finished. 

“You cannot be serious?” Brienne whispered. “You can-.”

“You and your children are heirs to one of the highest houses of Westeros.” Jon said sharply. “You are also most probably on the Dragon Queen’s list. I would assume she would seek to end the household line of the man who she feels has attempted to end hers.”

Brienne stopped speaking, her hand falling limply from Jaime’s. He closed his eyes. 

“And what did your Lord Hand have to say about this?” She asked sharply, Jaime turned to face his wife, meeting her angry gaze. 

“My Lord Hand did not have a say. I am the King.” Jon didn’t race his voice, but it still dripped heavy with the weight of it. “If there is to be war, you will be needed Ser Brienne. If there is an after, your children will be needed then as well.”   
  


Bran Stark’s old words hung high in the room for a second and Jaime sucked in a slow breath.   
  


“Your Grace.” Brienne shook her head, and Jaime slid his hand down her arm until he could interlock their fingers back together. She didn’t attempt to pull away again. “I am not some highborn lady who must flee in the night-.”

“Your husband stood in my now ruined home and commanded you to protect the innocent did he not? That’s what your King is asking you to do now. Gilly Tarly will travel with you. Young Sam and Little Olenna will be safer there then at any of the high houses.” 

“Ned and Rob?” She whispered. 

“Safe.” He mumbled. “Separately safe.” 

“The Queen set off an hour ago.” Jaime told her.

“And hour-.” She gasped.

“You will leave in an hour hence, my Love.” Jaime finally spoke, his voice rasping. Her face broke.

“Jaime..” She whispered torturously, her head shaking left to right. “We can leave at first light-.” He shook his head.

“I’ll leave you to..” Jon stopped and swallowed. “Prepare.” Jaime blinked heavily before looking at him. “Come to me in my chambers.” He gestured at the Lannisters. “Afterward.” 

“Yes your Grace.” The Hand to the King answered formally, handing the baby back to his wife before stooping to pick up his daughters in each arm. “Let’s go get you all ready for your adventure.”

“Adventure?” Joanna asked, her eyes wide. 

“Yes. You, Lyanna and your brothers are going on an adventure with Mummy.” He told them. “And guess what Jo? Olenna is going to join you...” Pod followed him with Arthur as Brienne hesitated, watching her husband with her children for a few seconds before he glanced back over shoulder at him giving her a sad smile. 

She held his eyes for a split second before striding towards them, a fake smile on her face, just like Jaime had taught her.

…………………

Dany circled high, enjoying the red glow of the pile of rocks below her. It had been easier than expected to bring down Winterfell. It had been less gratifying than she hoped.

Years spent in the desert. Years spent searching. Years spent rebuilding. Recuperating. It was time now.

She motioned Dragon back towards Castle Black. If Sansa or her husband had escaped death then surely they’d call on the wildlings once again. 

That’s what Starks did, after all! Call on others to fight their battles for them. 

Destroy others to keep themselves clean and pure.

_Winter is coming._ The eternal warning. 

Winter had come, dark and full of horror, and yet it had been survived.  Thanks to fire and blood. 

And now she would take what should have always been hers. 

Take revenge. Take back Westeros. Or destroy it trying. 

Fire and Blood. 

She was a dragon. 

Wolves and Lions were her prey, they stood no chance.

  
  
  
  


  
  
  



End file.
